Red smokescreen
by arthemys
Summary: Sequel to the story Kestrel storm. Some intel is stolen from the CIA and Russia is suspected. For the CIA, Kestrel is the ideal culprit. But Sam Fisher trusts his ops, and knows there is more to it than what is showing. Now it's up to him and the Fourth Echelon team to clear Kestrel's name and find the real mole... All the while facing the joys and sorrows of expanding families!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Kestrel and Fourth Echelon adventures continue... I really like writing about them, and I hope you'll enjoy this new story. Maybe I'll update less often than the previous stories, but I'll try and have a chapter published a day as usual. Enjoy reading!**

Chapter 1

The soft vibration of the smartphone in his pocket made Kestrel jump, and he took it out grumbling inwardly. He looked at the name displayed on the screen and saw "Sam". Hesitating, he watched the phone a few more seconds before gathering his courage, and answered with a sigh.

_ Yes?

_ Kestrel? It's Sam. Are you all right?

_ I was.

Kestrel rubbed his face and looked at the fading light. The view of the waterfall next to him, reflecting the setting sun with a soft gurgling sound, was awesome as always, but this time he knew he would have to leave his corner of paradise. Unlike his previous calls, this time Sam's tone meant business.

_ Kestrel, I'm sorry to disturb you, but...

_ We have a mission, Kestrel cut him softly. Don't worry, Sam. It was meant to happen sooner or later. And I've had three months off-duty, thanks to you. I'm all right.

He rose from his usual rock and looked a last time at the clearing where he had spent the last two hours, meditating peacefully, and headed back to the wooden chalet. In the phone, Sam said apologetically:

_ We must meet Briggs' former CIA colleagues in Langley to set up a joint mission in two days.

_ I hate joint missions, Kestrel grumbled.

_ That I know, but I hope everything will turn okay for us with American colleagues.

_ We'll see.

Kestrel climbed the porch and entered the chalet, heading for his bedroom on the third floor. He switched on the loudspeaker on his smartphone and put it on his bed as he started to gather his belongings in his bag.

_ Grim booked a place for you in tomorrow's first plane leaving Boise, Sam told him. Take-off at 4.16 am.

_ You do realize that I came here with my pickup? the ops replied calmly.

_ Jun is already heading for Boise. He'll meet you at the airport and drive your car back to Baltimore.

_ How thoughtful, Kestrel said, not hiding the sarcasm.

_ Kestrel...

_ Sorry, Sam. It wrenches me to leave this place, that's all.

_ It belongs to us, Sam said gently. Whenever you want, you'll come back there.

_ Thank you very much.

_ How are you feeling?

Kestrel took his time to answer. His holidays had really saved his life. Without them he would've utterly cracked and sunk into a nervous breakdown. But he had travelled abroad during the first three weeks, fulfilling his dream with doing a tour of Europe, before coming back to the States for Sarah Fisher and Ben Woodridge's wedding. And right after that he had gone in a spiritual retreat in an orthodox monastery in Boston for two weeks. The silence and Russian prayers had appeased his frayed nerves and helped him focus and master his anger.

Then he had taken his pickup and crossed the country to Idaho, where he had spent the last month and a half in Sam's and Grim's chalet. He thought he would stay there only three weeks, the reamining of the two months Sam had originally given the team, but no urgent mission had come, so Sam had told him he could stay in the chalet until he called him back. And now was the time. But Kestrel was okay. His mind had mended, and he knew where he would go.

_ I'm rested, mentally and physically, and ready for any job, he said calmly.

_ I believe you, Sam said. That's good. Have you finished the low table?

_ Yes. It's in the lounge, waiting for your next visit.

_ Excellent.

Kestrel had made a new low table, since he had destroyed the previous one in his rage during his last stay with the team in January. And he had chopped wood and cut down three trees to make the wood dry for the coming winters. The shack behind the chalet was full to bursting with logs, all cut with a simple axe.

Kestrel asked his boss:

_ Did you know that a small river was flowing five hundred meters south of the chalet?

_ No. Really?

_ Really. I went fishing twice in it. But the last time, last Saturday, there was a fishing contest, and there were plenty of people. There even was some local television channel. I tried to avoid their cameras.

_ Don't worry, you won't be recognized as simply as that. Did you catch something?

_ Actually yes, and to my great surprise. Fishing's not really my thing, but I managed to catch a pike, and of course it had to be the biggest of the day. I made the front page in the local fishing newspaper, I imagine. Lucky me. But the pike tasted fine.

Sam chuckled, and Kestrel smiled while checking his bag. He would have the evening to gather his things in the other rooms, but he liked to be ready at a moment's notice.

_ Okay, Kestrel. Charlie sent your ticket on your smartphone, he told me you would just have to present it on your screen at the airport. Technology...

Kestrel smirked at his boss' disgruntled voice. Sam was an exceptional commander, but a little old-school and quite reluctant to using high-technological stuff.

_ Right. When will I arrive in Baltimore?

_ You have a stop over at Denver of an hour, and you'll land in Baltimore around 11 am for you and 2 pm here. Briggs will come to fetch you and drive you to your place, then you will both come to the Paladin for dinner and an evening debrief. We'll leave together for Langley the day after that.

_ Copy.

_ Right. Enjoy your evening, Kestrel.

_ You too, Sam. See you tomorrow evening, then.

Kestrel hung up and sat on his bed, sighing heavily. He would miss the quiet of the chalet and the amazing view of the forest and the waterfall from his bedroom window, but on the other hand he would be able to visit Alpha's grave when he returned in Baltimore. Smiling slightly he got up and prepared a hasty meal before cleaning the chalet. And when he went to bed, he was quite happy to go back to the Paladin the next day with his team and resume his job as a field operative.

As planned, he met Jun at the airport terminal before dawn, and the smiling analyst promised to take care of his pickup. Then Kestrel boarded his plane, sleeping soundly during the first flight to Denver then reading Alpha's book for the fourth time during the second one. And when the plane landed, he was feeling great and calm, like his old self.

Briggs was waiting for him just outside the terminal, standing beside his Chevrolet. He embraced Kestrel and asked him while taking his bag and putting it in the trunk:

_ Safe flight?

_ No turbulence, he smiled. Thanks for picking me up. I could've booked a taxi.

_ I know, that's why I told Sam I would be there. We haven't seen each other for two months, mate. I wanted some time to talk to you alone, and not aboard the Paladin.

_ You worry me.

_ No need, Briggs said as he climbed behind the wheel.

Kestrel sat in the shotgun seat and waited for his friend to speak. Briggs looked calm enough, but Kestrel could tell something was bothering his teammate.

_ Sam told you about us going to Langley, I assume?

_ Yes. Something about a joint operation, although he didn't give me any specifics.

_ The CIA is in dire straits, Briggs explained while driving swiftly in the quite light Baltimore traffic. They became aware of some intel leaking out of Langley and reaching foreign agencies, but in spite of three internal investigations they still haven't discovered the mole.

_ Don't tell me we'll become private investigators, Kestrel groaned.

_ No. Supposedly we'll have to follow some trail to track the middlemen of the last leak.

_ What do you mean, "supposedly"?

Briggs shot him a very serious look, and Kestrel felt uneasiness creeping into his guts.

_ I don't believe any of this. I've worked for the CIA, and I know they can't stand having other agencies breathing down their necks. So why call Fourth Echelon?

_ Are you telling me that we're being used?

_ I fear there's much more going on, but it's only an intuition. I told Sam, but he's bound hand and foot, as it's a direct presidential order. It concerns him a lot, I can tell you.

Kestrel stayed silent for a few seconds, but he thought about what Briggs had begun to say.

_ Why are you telling me this now? Why not aboard the Paladin with all the team?

Briggs kept his eyes on the road, but he swallowed and Kestrel noticed a trickle of sweat on his forehead. Uh oh, he thought. His friend was afraid of his reactions, and that meant trouble.

_ Because I have a question to ask you, and I don't want to offend you. If I do, I prefer being alone with you as to keep it between the two of us.

_ Wow, Kestrel whistled. I have the impression we're about to step on a hornets' nest. Come on, Briggs, you know you can ask me anything. Go on.

Briggs parked in front of a nearby restaurant and turned to face him. He inhaled deeply and said:

_ Are you in contact with Voron?

Kestrel, stunned, was first too bewildered to answer. Then he said calmly:

_ No. Igor phoned me once, though, last Sunday. Why?

_ Because I've just learned that the last leak from the CIA reached the SVR. And you know much better than me that Voron could be behind it. You're a former Voron ops, and I fear the CIA won't look past their noses for the culprit.

Kestrel felt a blinding anger rising in him, but he kept it under control. His retreat in Boston and stay in the chalet had done the trick, he was able to master his nerves now. He exhaled deeply, allowing himself five seconds of sophrology before saying calmly:

_ If they do think it's me, then I don't know how I could have learned about their little secrets. I'm no hacker, and I don't know anyone in the CIA. And when I talked to Igor, it was only small talk. We both know that in our jobs we are enemies.

_ I trust you, mate, Briggs said. And so does the team. But... maybe I'm too paranoid, but this joint operation...

Kestrel watched his friend's tight features and sighed inwardly. He knew he was an easy scapegoat, being a defector from Russia. But he had to trust his new country. He had nothing to fear, he was innocent. But if something happened, he would be prepared.

_ Thanks for telling me. But as you said, maybe it's nothing.

_ Maybe.

Kestrel' gaze fell upon the neon sign above the restaurant and his stomach rumbled loudly. Briggs shot him an amused look and asked:

_ Shall we go in there?

_ Bob's steakhouse, Kestrel read, already salivating. You parked at the right place.

_ I would've offered you to pay the bill, but...

_ Better not for your wallet, мой друг. _(my friend)_

Briggs smiled and led the way inside. There Kestrel ordered from a bewildered waitress three huge prime ribs with potatoes, and ate them in less than fifteen minutes. The meat was delicious, and he savoured it while watching Briggs eating calmly his slab of steak with fries. Some country music was playing softly, and the restaurant was full to bursting with customers.

After the dessert, a giant ice cream cup, Kestrel paid the bill and left a generous tip for the grateful waitress, then followed Briggs to his car. They soon arrived in Shipley Hill, Kestrel's neighbourhood, and Briggs parked at the foot of his building. He told Kestrel:

_ I'll leave you now, and come back again to pick you up at six thirty. Okay?

_ That leaves me... three hours, Kestrel said, checking his OPSAT. Enough time.

_ Say hello to Alpha for me.

_ Will do. Is Molly coming with us?

Briggs was still dating the nice nurse, and they were thinking about living together, which Kestrel found cute.

_ No, she's got an in-house training in New York for a month.

_ Then say hello for me too when you phone her.

_ Okay, mate.

Kestrel took his bag from the trunk and watched Briggs speeding away. He hastily went to his apartment on the third floor and prepared his bag for the coming mission. In truth, he hadn't much to do since the bag he had with him had everything, but he thoroughly checked his things as to be sure not to leave something important behind him. Then he left his bag right next to his door and left, heading for the Mount Olivet cemetery.

The walk took him twenty minutes, and soon he saw the black tombstone with the golden letters engraved on it, and stopped right in front of it. He said softly:

_ Good afternoon, my love. I know it's been a long time since my last visit, two months ago, and I'm sorry about it. I was in Boise's chalet, and I spent some good time there. I'm feeling much better now.

He stayed there, in front of Alpha's grave, for two hours, telling her the small things he had done, the places he had seen, the feelings he had had and was still having. Talking to her like that was essential for him. Finally he said regretfully:

_ Now I must leave, my love. Briggs will be waiting for me, and we'll meet the team aboard the plane. Briggs says hello, and I'm pretty sure Sam, Grim and Charlie too. I'll come back soon, лювбимая. _(my love)_

He sent a kiss to the grave, then strode to the gate. He had a small smile when he noticed Briggs' car parked in the street, and climbed in it as if it was perfectly normal. Briggs shook his head.

_ You could've taken your bag with you, we would've saved time.

_ You're early, my friend, Kestrel said calmly. It's only 6.13 pm. You did tell me 6.30, and you were supposed to pick me up at my place.

_ I was bored.

Smiling, Kestrel let Briggs drive him back to his apartment and quickly fetched his bag, then they headed to the airport, where the Paladin and the Fourth Echelon team were waiting for them.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sam was slowly pacing the control room of the Paladin, lost in his thoughts. Sitting in a corner, Grim and Charlie were watching him silently, knowing that something was bothering their commander. And Sam was really bothered, a very unpleasant and irritating sensation crawling up his back. He really didn't like the sound of that new mission with the CIA the president Caldwell had given him, but as he was bound to obey, he had no choice but doing it. And that didn't suit him at all.

He stopped abruptly and asked Charlie:

_ Could you find some intel on these leaks in the CIA?

_ Sam, Grim sighed wearily. I've already told you, we don't know anything yet. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

_ Well, I don't like it! he rumbled loudly, letting his annoyance show. The CIA loathes us, and the feeling is mutual aside for Briggs. Why would they need us so suddenly? We belong to the NSA, we're like fire and ice, we don't get along!

_ I agree with you, Grim said calmly, but we must wait till tomorrow to know more about all this.

_ At least we could search for the intel that has disappeared, Charlie suggested. We know some went missing, but we don't know what exactly. If it's Grandma's brownie recipe, no need to fuss. But if it's more sensitive data...

Sam shot him an appraising look, satisfied at his tech's thoughts. Charlie was much more mature and down-to-earth since his mishap with Fedorova, the Voron mole inside the CIA who had betrayed him and wrecked Kestrel's life. He nodded and said:

_ That would be great, but of course you must not be caught.

_ Too risky, Grim opposed him. If you raise a single alarm...

_ That won't happen, Charlie said calmly.

_ How can you be so sure?

_ Because I've had lessons from the best hacker in the world, the tech said simply. Alpha gave me her secrets to penetrate the CIA database, and she had never been caught.

_ That's true, Kestrel confirmed as he and Briggs entered the room, bags in hand.

Sam went in front of his two ops and shook hands with them. He immediately saw that Briggs was troubled by something and that Kestrel looked far better than the last time he had seen him, at his daughter's wedding. But the two of them shared a frowning expression, and Sam couldn't blame them. Grim and Charlie rose too and said hello, and Sam waited patiently for the small talk to die.

At last he said:

_ Briggs, Kestrel, go put your things in your cabins, then come back here. We must talk.

The ops left right away, and Sam told Charlie:

_ Do the search, but don't get caught.

Charlie nodded and sat in front of his computer. Sam held Grim's disapproving stare, knowing in his guts that he was right to be suspicious, and went next to her. He gently caressed her face and kissed her before murmuring in her ear:

_ I'm sorry but I must know. I have a very bad feeling about all this.

She didn't say anything but kissed him back softly before going to her own computer and doing some research. He sighed inwardly, a little disappointed at having to come back aboard the Paladin and leave the quiet routine with her in their house, but he felt good at the same time. Fourth Echelon was where he wanted to be, and where he hoped he would be until he decided to retire for good. But that wouldn't happen soon, he thought.

Kestrel was the first back in the control room, soon followed by Briggs. Sam said calmly:

_ Meeting, everyone.

The team gathered around the SMI, serious faces on. Sam glanced at each member of his team and started:

_ Right. You all roughly know why we are here. The CIA has a mole who's passing intel to foreign agencies. We don't know which agencies, we don't know what intel, we don't know when it happened. What we do know is that these losers can't find the mole and they need us to mop their shit.

_ Sam! Grim said reproachfully.

_ I'm only saying things as I see them, Sam rumbled, annoyed.

_ About all that, Briggs said calmly, I've had some info.

_ Tell us, Sam invited him, eyebrows furrowed.

_ The last leak has reached the SVR, and the CIA suspects Voron.

Briggs stopped there, but his expression was so clear Sam felt fury welling up in his chest. They were going to frame Kestrel, it was obvious. He tried to breathe deeply, but it was no good, and slammed his fist violently on the console.

_ Sons of a bitch! Assholes! I knew they were up to no good!

Around the table, only Charlie had flinched at his outburst. Briggs' concern was showing, Grim had a faraway look in her eyes Sam knew only too well, when she was calculating the consequences of an act, and Kestrel wore his usual poker face, looking unconcerned.

_ What's going on? Charlie asked in astonishment. Please explain yourself, Sam!

_ Charlie, Briggs said after shooting a brief glance at Sam who was angrily pacing the room again, trying to force down his fury. We suspect that the CIA will blame Kestrel, as he's a former Voron ops. That's probably why they want us in Langley tomorrow, to arrest him.

Charlie looked outraged, but Sam shouted, blinded by his anger:

_ No way I'm gonna let them arrest you, Kestrel! Assholes! They don't want to find the real mole, that's all! You're an easy target, but I won't let them! I won't!

_ Sam, Kestrel said softly, making Sam stop in his tracks and look at him.

His ops was very calm, so calm it appeased him a little. His expression was neutral, but a faint smile was playing on his lips, and Sam felt better. He wouldn't let his ops down, not after all he had endured.

_ Don't worry. They're probably going to arrest me, but it doesn't matter. I'm innocent. I don't know anyone in the CIA and I don't hack computers. They won't be able to prove anything. The only thing they could find is Igor's call last Sunday, but we only talked about ourselves.

_ What did he tell you exactly? Grim asked him. I'm sorry to ask, but...

_ I understand, Kestrel shrugged. He told me that he had met someone, and he hoped she was the one he had been waiting for. And I told him about my holidays. That's it, really.

_ Okay, Sam nodded. When you were abroad, where did you go?

_ France first, Kestrel recalled with a dreamy look. I visited Paris, Lyon and Brest. I wanted to see Alpha's town of birth. Then London, Brussels, Berlin, Rome, Madrid. After that I went with a tour group to Romania for a week, we visited a lot of beautiful places.

_ Okay, Grim said, having written all of it on a small notepad. Well, you didn't approach Russia, so it should be all right.

Kestrel had a joyless smile.

_ A lot of Voron ops work in embassies, and there are several in Europe. I myself spent six months as a diplomat in Russia's embassy in South Africa nine years ago. The CIA will think I've met someone during my trip, and it's true I could've done it easily. Only I didn't.

_ But I can't have you arrested, Kestrel! Sam said loudly again, anger boiling in him. I won't let them!

_ You will, Sam, Kestrel said very calmly. You will, and you know why.

Sam faced his ops and was again struck by his calm. Kestrel was perfectly well-balanced, his holidays had really worked wonders on his sanity. But Sam didn't want to let him fall in the CIA's clutches.

_ If I'm arrested, I need all of you here to clear my name, Kestrel explained seriously. If the CIA doesn't want to look somewhere else for a culprit, you must be the ones protecting their data and finding the leak. If some intel disappears again while I'm in their custody, it'll clear me, but maybe the damage will be irreversible. We can't let that happen.

_ But maybe they'll keep you for days before we can prove anything! Sam protested.

_ I won't tell them anything, Kestrel assured calmly. I'm no terrorist, they don't have the right to touch me. And whatever they do to make me talk will be cream cheese compared to what Voron did to me.

Sam, although reassured by his ops' confidence, wasn't thrilled about that plan. Unfortunately, they didn't have any choice. He went right in front of his ops and put a hand on his shoulder.

_ I don't want you to think we're letting you down. If you're arrested, we'll do all we can to set you free and clear you as soon as possible.

_ I know, Sam, Kestrel nodded calmly. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I'm quite used to being interrogated by now.

Sam half-smiled, then turned towards the rest of his team.

_ We'll have dinner now, but right after that I want everything on this intel passed to the SVR. The more we know about it by ourselves, the better. Sorry, Briggs, but I don't trust your old friends any second.

_ You're wise, Sam, Briggs said unexpectedly. I wouldn't trust them either, except for two people. But it's very few among all the CIA assholes.

Sam nodded grimly and led the team to the dining cabin, where they had a great but silent dinner. Grim had made a Yorkshire pudding with roasted potatoes, and Kestrel did so much justice to it that he emptied the huge dish, as usual. Then the apple pie was quickly eaten too, and Kestrel soon rose.

_ Thanks for this excellent dinner. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to have some fresh air before being cooped up in a cell.

_ Would you mind to have some company? Sam asked him softly.

_ Not at all.

Sam swiftly kissed Grim, then he got up and followed his ops to the tarmac of the airport. The Paladin had a special hangar of its own for the times between missions, which ensured some good privacy for Fourth Echelon. But Kestrel started to walk casually on the grass along the airport fence, hands in his pockets, breathing deeply. The sun was almost set, and a cool breeze was softly blowing.

_ Well, Sam?

Kestrel's voice jarred Sam out of his thoughts, and he shot a glance at his ops.

_ What do you want to tell me?

_ How do you know I have something to tell you?

_ You have your embarrassed expression on, and Grim didn't look surprised at you coming with me.

_ You truly know us well, Kestrel, Sam smiled.

_ Indeed. Now speak before the light fades completely, please. I don't want to come back to the plane too late.

_ Okay.

Sam stopped and faced his ops. He knew the questions he had for him were quite personal, but he had to ask them to him since it could affect his job as a Fourth Echelon ops.

_ Have you solved your drinking problem for good?

_ Yes, Kestrel answered serenely. It was hard, I admit, but I haven't touched alcohol since our stay in Boise last January.

_ That's fine, Sam said, smiling and rejoicing. And have you had any balance trouble again?

_ No. Everything's fine, thanks.

_ Good.

Sam fell silent, but he ached to ask another question. However, he knew Kestrel would maybe become angry or depressed, and it was something he didn't want at all. His ops stared at him, and finally said:

_ I don't bite, Sam, you know. And I've solved my raging temper issue, at least I think so. Ask away, then.

Sam laughed softly. It was as if Kestrel could read his mind.

_ I really don't know how you're doing it. Okay, I have a last question. But I don't know if I should ask it.

_ Go on.

_ Are you absolutely sure you're gonna withstand the pressure if the CIA detains you?

Sam was very reluctant at the idea of letting Kestrel in the hands of the CIA, not only for his ops' sanity and well-being, but also for the intel he had about Voron and Fourth Echelon. He trusted his ops blindly, but Kestrel was just out of a breakdown, and there was always a risk of him cracking. But Kestrel held his gaze and said calmly:

_ I am a hundred percent sure, Sam. They won't have anything from me, not even my name.

_ I don't want you detained, Kestrel, Sam said, anger rising again. You've already been detained and interrogated enough for a lifetime, and the bastards who did it haven't paid enough to my taste. You left that painful past behind you and became American with the hope that it wouldn't happen again. What will you think of your new country if it treats you as badly as Russia? It drives me crazy!

Sam was fuming, a blinding rage threatening to explode tightening his guts, but like before dinner Kestrel answered him calmly.

_ The CIA is not the USA, Sam. And as you and the team support me, I know it won't be like with Voron. I don't fancy being detained, but I will learn things from them. The questions they'll ask me will betray them.

Sam shot him an impressed look. His ops was truly brave, and smart.

_ You're right. Well, in this case, I trust you to bring us back important info when you'll come back.

_ We're not even certain I'll be arrested, Kestrel said with a smile.

_ Better think about the worst, Sam said grimly.

_ Absolutely.

Kestrel started walking again, and Sam followed him, his mind swirling with thoughts. He would defend his ops until the end, and try to avoid having him arrested. But against the CIA, he was a featherweight. They don't know Fourth Echelon's director Sam Fisher yet, he thought grimly. They wouldn't be disappointed.

Kestrel and he walked in silence for another ten minutes, then they came back to the Paladin. The team was working hard on finding info, but so far nothing. And Charlie was having trouble hacking the CIA.

_ Looks like they built up some huge defences against us, he told Sam gloomily. It'll take me time, even with Alpha's backdoor.

_ Don't worry, Sam said. We'll see tomorrow.

Grim looked at him in surprise, but he had a faint smile on his lips. They would obtain this intel, sooner or later, he knew it. But the team needed to rest while they still could, as he sensed the coming days would be tough. As he said all this, Grim nodded in approval, and Kestrel, Briggs and Charlie smiled. The mission could begin.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Kestrel awoke well before dawn, a little troubled about the coming day. He didn't fear being arrested and detained, but it bothered him not to walk freely and do exercises. You'll just have to practise your meditation techniques for a few days, Kestrel, he told himself.

He got up and silently dressed, then left the plane and ran five kilometers around the airport. Then he did push-ups and stretching exercises, and felt better. He was almost ready. The hot shower was a bliss after that, and he put on casual dark clothes as to be comfortable. Then he went in the kitchen and prepared breakfast. He wanted a Russian one, his comfort food, so he set to work.

One hour and a half later, the delicious smell from the oladi, the vareneki, the sirniki and the kasha was owerpowering, and soon Grim and Sam entered the room, looking starving.

_ Hello, there! Sam said. Is it Russia's day?

_ Hi, Kestrel, Grim said, nudging Sam.

_ Hi, Kestrel said calmly, preparing the coffee. No, it's not Russia's day. It's mine.

He smiled before the startled look on Sam's face and asked:

_ Could you give me a hand bringing all this next door, please?

_ Sure, Grim said, grabbing two dishes.

The three of them set the breakfast table in the dining cabin, where Briggs and Charlie were waiting impatiently, having smelled Kestrel's cooking. And soon the dishes were empty. Kestrel ate like an ogre, knowing it would probably be the only meal of the day for him if he was arrested. But the old specialties from his youth comforted him, and he was serene about what would happen.

As he reclined back on his chair, savouring the last vareneki like candy, he noticed Grim's grateful stare and nodded to her. Sam said, patting his stomach:

_ That was fabulous, Kestrel, thanks. But please don't cook these wonderful things every day, or I won't fit in my fatigues anymore.

_ Don't worry, Kestrel said. It was just for today. I needed it.

He felt a shadow hovering on the faces of the team, and knew they like him sensed trouble coming. But what was meant to happen would happen, he knew it. If the CIA thought him guilty, fine. They were wrong. But maybe it would take time for them to admit it. And he didn't trust them.

He sat forward and, without a word, unlocked the chain around his neck and put it on the table in front of him. Alpha's baptism medal and his mother's wedding ring tinted on the steel table, and he looked at them for a few seconds. Then he took out his wallet from his inner pocket and extracted a small photo from it. On it, Alpha was half-smiling at him, rifle in hand and with tousled hair. He stared a long time at the photo, silently asking the woman he had deeply loved - and still loved - to give him courage, then put the photo next to the chain.

He pocketed back his wallet and looked at the team, carefully following his movements. He said calmly:

_ You all know how important these things are to me. I entrust them to you all in the case I'm arrested later today. I'll have them back when I am cleared.

He saw Grim on the verge of tears, Charlie biting his lips, Briggs frowning in concern and Sam looking ready to burst in anger again. But he himself was calm, he was ready to face the fate awaiting him. At last, Sam said with a barely controlled voice:

_ We'll keep them for you, Kestrel, and you'll have them back soon.

He nodded and smiled faintly. He asked:

_ When will we leave?

_ In thirty minutes, Grim answered him after clearing her throat. We must be at Langley at 9.30.

_ Okay, he said, getting to his feet.

The team rose and Briggs said:

_ I'll clear the table, mate.

_ I'll help you, Charlie offered.

_ Thanks, Kestrel said gratefully. Then I'll be outside.

He strode out of the plane and the hangar, admiring the bright colours of the sky, illuminated by the rising sun. A few white clouds were visible, but it would be a nice day. He inhaled deeply the scent of flowers and kerosene carried by the soft wind blowing, and wanted to enjoy the rays of sunlight. He knew he had to be at peace to withstand a CIA interrogation, and being outside was his way of reaching it.

Much too soon he heard Sam's footsteps in his back and felt a hand on his shoulder.

_ Are you ready?

He turned round and faced his anxious boss. He breathed calmly and said:

_ I am.

Then he followed Sam to the black van owned by Fourth Echelon and climbed at the back, next to Grim and Charlie. Briggs was behind the wheel, looking grim. Next to him, Sam looked like he was having a tooth extracted without anesthesia. That thought made Kestrel smirk. He took out his smartphone and handed it to Grim.

_ Please keep this, he said. I don't want to ease the CIA's work by giving them Kossiak's number or yours.

_ You're right, she said, pocketing the phone.

_ We'll have to play the surprise if they arrest you, Briggs said suddenly. I can't give myself and my friends away.

_ That won't be hard for me, Sam grumbled.

_ Okay, Kestrel said. I'll play my finest role, then. I know quite a lot of cuss words in Russian, they come easier than in English. So don't be surprised.

The trip to Langley was a short one, so they arrived at the gates at 9.15 am. The guards thoroughly searched them and ordered them to leave their phones in the van. All the better, Kestrel thought while watching Grim putting his smartphone and hers in the glove compartment with Sam's, Briggs' and Charlie's ones. Then the five of them were escorted to the rather gloomy meeting room where three people were waiting for them and rose to greet them. They introduced themselves, and Kestrel took care to memorize their names and faces.

The man in charge was supervisory agent Timothy Zeller, a forty-something burly guy with little brown hair and cold brown eyes. Next to him were special agent Rick Tomlinson, a tall, black-haired thirty-something fellow with a frank smile, and special agent Rose Daniels, in her thirties too, with long blond hair in a ponytail and bright blue eyes. Sam then introduced the Fourth Echelon team, and Kestrel noticed a fugitive spark in Zeller's eyes at the mention of his name. Yes, he thought dimly, you'll go to jail, Kestrel, мой друг. _(my friend)_

The supervisory agent invited them to take a seat, and when everyone was settled around the great table, the CIA agents facing the Fourth Echelon ones, he started:

_ We're all very busy, so I'll get to the point. About two months ago, we discovered that some very sensitive data we had collected reached the French DGSE. Now, I don't doubt the professionalism of our French friends, but the intel was at Langley and completely secure. The only way to retrieve it was with a mole within our ranks. We made three inquiries...

_ Why three? Sam cut him sharply. Why not one?

_ In the CIA we do everything in triple, Daniels explained smoothly as Zeller was looking annoyed at having being interrupted. Standard procedure.

Sam nodded after a quick glance at Briggs who made the tiniest nod, and Zeller continued:

_ These investigations led to nowhere. We don't know who is the mole. So the president Caldwell ordered us to have another agency helping us on that matter.

His tone made it clear that he disapproved of that order, and Kestrel restrained a smile. Sam and him had a thing in common, after all.

_ Three weeks ago, another important file reached a rival agency: the MI-6. Fortunately for us the British are quite fair play, and they told us about it as the intel was on some known Russian terrorists. But we still don't know who betrayed us or who served as a middleman. And just last Monday, some intel reached the Russian SVR.

Zeller paused, looking intently at Sam. Kestrel saw his boss looking concerned but skeptical.

_ That's serious, all right, Sam said. But what can we do to help you? And what intel are we talking about?

Agent Tomlinson sat forward and said:

_ All the intel is about Russia. Technological secrets we discovered, contracts between Russian firms and foreign countries, known terrorists, military files, a lot of things.

_ So I imagine you suspect Russia, Sam stated calmly.

_ Indeed, Tomlinson acknoweledged.

_ But if it truly is Russia, then why give the intel to other agencies?

_ To destabilize the CIA, Daniels chimed in. Make us appear weak and unable to protect our intel.

_ That seems to work, Sam said matter-of-factly, but Kestrel saw a glint of amusement in his eyes. Do you have a lead?

_ Yes, Zeller nodded. We've bugged the new Voron commander's phone, Igor Kossiak. But I believe agent Loskov here will speak about it better than me.

Kestrel saw all eyes turning on him, but he stayed calm. His last conversation with his old friend was perfectly safe and evidence-free.

_ What do you mean? Sam asked angrily. Are you accusing my ops of being a spy?

Zeller ignored him and stayed focused on Kestrel, a wry smile on his lips.

_ We recorded your conversation, agent Loskov. And even though you talked in Russian and with coded words, we know it was you who passed the intel to your Voron friends.

Kestrel was so astonished he felt his jaw drop. What coded words? This man had to be joking. But supervisory agent Zeller was solemn as a judge, so Kestrel knew it was time for him to play the outraged victim. He truly didn't know what the guy was talking about, but being accused of being a traitor wasn't cool at all. So he spoke for the first time with an angry voice, letting his genuine indignation show:

_ I really don't know what you're talking about, agent Zeller. And I don't spy for my former country. Igor Kossiak is an old friend of mine, that's true, but now we are on opposite sides. We only made small talk, and I don't know anything about your intel. I don't care about it.

_ Agent Loskov, Tomlinson said as four agents in military fatigues entered the room, weapons in hand, we have proof of your guiltiness. It's all on the recording.

_ Wait a second! Sam rose as the four men went around Kestrel. What recording? Give it to us, I don't believe it! My ops is innocent!

_ I'm sorry, Mr Fisher, Zeller said with an oily voice, irritating Kestrel. But there is no doubt. Agent Loskov is a spy having betrayed his new country, and is now under arrest. He'll be detained and questioned here about his spying activities. We'll give you all the evidence as soon as he makes a full confession.

_ Confession you will never have, ублюдок! _(bastard!)_ Kestrel roared, jumping on his feet and knocking down his chair. I'm no traitor! I have never spied the CIA, and I certainly won't give any intel to the country who betrayed me! Чёрт! _(Shit!)_

Around him the agents raised their guns and took aim at him, but he didn't care. He was focused on Zeller, that slimy old fool, who was smiling nastily.

_ I was told you had a rather bad temper, agent Loskov, he said silkily. But in the CIA we don't like traitors. Better make it quick and smooth.

_ You won't arrest my man before I see what you have against him! Sam protested again, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. You can't arrest him like that!

_ We do whatever we have to do, Zeller said menacingly. We have the presidential go, and I'm not afraid of you, Samuel Fisher. Fourth Echelon is nothing against us, and we have the upper hand on this matter. You'll have all the evidence in a few days, then we'll send you and your team to track down the middlemen of the spying. As for you, agent Loskov, you're under arrest for treason and spying activities against the United States of America. You'll be questioned and detained in the CIA facility here, and if you're proven guilty, which I don't doubt, you'll be sentenced to jail.

_ You're making a huge mistake, Sam told him calmly, surveying the CIA agents with a harsh stare.

Kestrel saw the Splinter Cell was mad, but his fury was so controlled and focused on his opponents that he was glad not to be at their place. And he noticed with satisfaction Daniels shuddering slightly and Tomlinson sweating. But Zeller was clearly not impressed and said.

_ We'll see. Daniels, escort back Fourth Echelon to their car. Tomlinson, accompany agent Loskov to the interrogation room.

One of the agents grabbed Kestrel's arms and tried to handcuff him behind his back, but he decided not to be bound. So he firmly pulled himself free and crossed his arms, saying:

_ I'm no criminal, you won't bind me.

_ Agent Loskov... Tomlinson started, looking embarrassed.

_ Иди на хуй, cукин сын! _(Fuck off, son of a bitch!)_

_ If you know what's good for you, Sam said grimly before exiting the room with his dejected team, you won't handcuff him. He can easily kill you all. But be assured that when I come back to fetch him and prove he's innocent, you'll have to answer me if he's been manhandled. And I do have a bad temper of my own.

Uneasy silence followed his statement, and Kestrel saw with satisfaction that Zeller wasn't as self-confident as he had been letting on in front of Sam. The old Splinter Cell had a well-known reputation since the downfall of Third Echelon, and was obviously feared by these CIA clowns. So Tomlinson gestured at his men to back away a little and told him:

_ Very well, agent Loskov. Follow me.

Kestrel shrugged and let himself being escorted through escalators, corridors and vast lobbies until they reached a small room with a steel table and chairs, all bolted to the floor, and Tomlinson said:

_ Sit down.

Kestrel sat quietly, hands folded in front of him and on the table, and settled himself as best he could against the back of his chair. It wouldn't be a five-star hotel, he knew it, but he was ready. His mind was clear. All he had to do now was forcing himself to patience, and focus. Tomlinson left him facing the two-way mirror, and Kestrel closed his eyes.

Straining his ears, he listened intently, and was soon satisfied as he heard voices in the room from where the CIA guys would watch him. Usually his extraordinary ability at listening to faint sounds wasn't of much use except during missions, but this time it would serve him well. He forced down a smile and emptied his mind, relaxing and doing sophrology as he listened to Tomlinson and Zeller watching him.

_ He looks calm, Tomlinson was saying. Doesn't strike me as a culprit.

_ It's him, Zeller said. You heard the recording, there is no doubt.

_ He's a former Voron ops. We won't be able to make him talk if he doesn't want to. He's been trained for that.

_ I give you twenty-four hours to do it softly, Zeller said. After that, we'll try other means of persuasion.

_ We won't...

Tomlinson sounded horrified, but Zeller cut him.

_ No, no torture. We can't do that anymore, with that fucking investigation last year against us. But there are evidenceless means. You'll see. In the meantime, get started.

Kestrel heard a door slamming, then footsteps coming towards him. Let's get started, then, he thought inwardly with a silent smile. Kestrel, мой друг, you're up to the Guiness world record of the motionless human statue, starting now.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sam was utterly mad. During the trip back to the Paladin he didn't unclench his teeth and gripped the doorhandle so tightly that his right hand was white, but he couldn't relax. Kestrel had really been arrested, and he hadn't been able to prevent it. And that fucking Zeller asshole had treated him and his team like shit.

They still knew very little about all this, only the scraps these CIA bastards had handed them with contempt, but Sam wasn't satisfied at all. The CIA was defying him and his team? Then so be it, he thought. They would soon learn who was Fourth Echelon.

In the car, silence was thick as maple syrup. Sam knew his team was seeing his fury, and maybe they were afraid of sparking things off. He couldn't blame them. He had a really nasty temper when angry, a lot like Kestrel in fact, but it seemed his ops had worked hard on it. Thinking about Kestrel and the interrogation awaiting him in the CIA's headquarters made him want to yell and punch wildly, but he had to focus. Kestrel needed him to prove his innocence.

When Briggs parked in front of the Paladin's hangar, Sam hopped out of the van and headed straight for the training room. He needed to let the steam off. And wisely, nobody followed him. He punched Kestrel's special punching bags for a good fifteen minutes before feeling better, and went for a shower. He chose to have cold water, as to help him focus and sharpen his wits.

When he came back to the control room, the team was already at work on their computers. But he went behind Charlie and asked him:

_ Do you think you can obtain that recording?

_ I'm on it, Sam, the tech answered seriously. But it's bloody difficult. I'll take me two days at best to bypass all their security and alarms.

_ Do better, Sam told him. The less we let Kestrel in their clutches the better. What about you, Briggs?

_ My old friends are avoiding me like a plague, his ops grimaced. And the two that are still talking to me don't know anything about the intel we're looking for. They'll investigate quietly, but it'll take time.

_ Grim? Sam asked with a last hope.

_ I'm trying to find the intel by contacting our moles in the foreign agencies, she said darkly, but like Briggs they don't know anything about it. I'm sorry, Sam, but we need time.

Sam banged his fist on the nearest desk in his rage, then strode out of the room. He headed towards the kitchen, wanting to cook lunch to calm himself. The faint smell of Kestrel's oladi still hung in the air, which didn't help him relax. But he concentrated on his meal, choosing a long and quite difficult recipe on purpose to allow his mind to focus on something else.

He set to work and made beef ravioli with a creamy sauce, and a pecan pie for dessert. Then he called his team, and they gathered in the dining cabin. But when Sam saw Kestrel's chain and photo still on the table, he snapped.

_ We must do something! he yelled violently, making his team jump. We can't let him down like that! I want data, and fast!

_ We're working on it, Sam, Grim said calmly, putting a hand on his arm. We don't like the situation anymore than you do. Please give us more time.

Fuming, he wanted to overturn the table, but he breathed deeply and said:

_ You're right. Forgive me.

She swiftly kissed him and sat. He drew a long breath again and went to fetch the dishes, but his mind was with his ops, at the CIA's headquarters, hoping against hope that Kestrel would withstand the pressure.

* * *

Kestrel was almost asleep on his chair, in spite of Tomlinson and another clown called Jonathan Dawson yelling in his ears. It was roughly 8 pm, and he hadn't opened his eyes once or made a single movement. As he had guessed, he hadn't been offered anything to eat or drink, but he had no intention of having anything anyway. In Russia he knew the meals and drinks were often "spiced" with drugs, and maybe the CIA would do the same since he wasn't talkative.

So far the two agents shouting had only asked him how he did to obtain the intel and pass it to Kossiak, but as he was playing the statue they didn't make very efficient interrogators. Twice he had felt a fist brushing his head, but he hadn't flinched. On the contrary, he had almost laughed twice already at their self-restraint. Those agents were wet cardboard compared to the executioners who had handled him in Koltsovo. So the circus went on, and he dozed off, staying still on his chair, until a very disgruntled Tomlinson told him to get up and walk to his cell for the night.

Kestrel opened his eyes at once and stared at Tomlinson while getting up, neutral expression on but shooting daggers at him. He was smaller than the CIA agent, but the latter looked a little impressed and worried at Kestrel's face. Then the ops turned round and followed agent Dawson out of the room, where two armed guys were waiting for them. He calmly followed them to a cell, where he was frisked, and agent Dawson took his wallet away. Fortunately he had left his OPSAT in his cabin, so he had nothing else on him. Then all the people left except Tomlinson, who told him quietly:

_ You'd better cooperate, agent Loskov. Staying silent won't help you.

Kestrel stared at him blankly, then deliberately turned his back on him and settled himself on the cot, lying down and closing his eyes. He felt the agent's presence for a few more seconds before he left, and heard the door slamming shut and the locks bolting. His cell was now pitch dark, but he didn't mind. He knew that soon he would be awakened abruptly and brought back in the interrogation room. The agents would try to disorient him by messing up with his internal clock. But he was used to it, he was no rookie. So he smiled softly and fell asleep instantly.

As expected, he had slept for about three hours when the two armed guys opened the door of his cell with a bang, hoping to startle him. But he had a supernatural hearing, so he had heard them approaching on tiptoe, and was sitting on his bed when the door opened, not flinching. He almost smiled at their surprise, but kept his poker face on. He had a role to play. He calmly got up and followed them, back in the small room where two new agents were waiting for him. And the show went on.

* * *

Things became harder for Kestrel on the third day. At least he thought it was the third, since he had no clock. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything since his breakfast at the Paladin, in spite of Tomlinson's stubbornness at bringing him meal trays. And that was starting to affect him, but he masked it and stayed motionless as always. Zeller himself had come to interrogate him, but Kestrel had ignored him like everyone else.

So Zeller had decided to intimidate him, and sent in the room two gorillas armed with baseball bats. Kestrel ignored them but surveyed them from behind his eyelids. As long as they were only threatening him he would be okay. But after several minutes of swinging his bat under Kestrel's nose, one of the thugs lost patience or obeyed an agreed order, because he stepped forward and swung his bat, aiming at Kestrel's head.

Swift as a snake, Kestrel jumped to his feet and rose his arm, blocking the blow. The thug clearly hadn't expected it and dropped the bat. He backed away when he realized Kestrel was staring intently at him with his cold eyes, and the ops felt satisfaction in him. He still could be intimidating, then, in spite of his strength decreasing. The other gorilla was hesitating, as he hadn't the right to attack a prisoner on purpose. And as Kestrel sat back on his chair, not threatening him, he had no choice but to back away too, and they both exited the room. Kestrel forced down his smile when he heard Zeller's angry voice from behind the two-way mirror.

_ This Loskov is tough! We're getting nowhere! He hasn't eaten since three days and he still can do things like that! Do something, Tomlinson! We need a confession for tomorrow evening! The president has ordered me to give the recording to Fourth Echelon tomorrow afternoon! We can't waste anymore time!

_ I'm sorry, boss, but I can't see how we'll make him talk. He's way too strong and has steel nerves.

_ Wait till he's very feeble, then ask the doc to inject him some drug with an IV.

_ But...

_ Do it, Tomlinson! I take full responsibility of this, don't be a wimp!

Kestrel heard a door slamming, and exhaled slowly. One more day to wait, then Sam would wring these bastards' necks. He had to hold on until then. But he knew it would be hard. Hunger and thirst were tormenting him, and his forces were declining. One more day to go, Kestrel, he told himself silently. One more day.

Approximately twelve hours later, Kestrel was still on his steel chair on the interrogation room, eyes closed, trying hard to resist as a meal tray with soda and a hamburger with fries was taunting him on the table in front of him. He was so hungry and thirsty his head was starting to spin, but he concentrated hard on his goal, shutting down his primordial needs. He knew the huge mental effort he was making would make him weaker more quickly, but he wasn't going to give in. He was tough, he knew it, and he would resist and stay silent at all costs.

The door opened once more, and he recognized Tomlinson's pace. The agent was very professional and intent on making him talk, but Kestrel had sensed genuine concern from him about his weakening state. And predictably, the CIA guy said:

_ You still won't have anything, agent Loskov? I respect your stubbornness and force of will, but you're endangering your life. At least drink a little, please.

Kestrel opened his eyes briefly, shooting him a contemptuous glare, before closing them again. He heard Tomlinson sigh deeply, then say:

_ As you wish. I'll escort you back to your cell.

Kestrel got to his feet, but staggered. His head was spinning fast, and for a second he was afraid of losing consciousness. But he forced his mind to focus and walked out of the room, flanked as always by two armed guards. Tomlinson was right behind him, and Kestrel knew he was closely watched as to assess his state.

When they reached his cell, Kestrel ignored the guards and the silent agent as always and went to his bunk. But he collapsed on it rather than sitting, and he wondered how much time he had before being completely dehydrated and dying of thirst.

Tomlinson went next to him and said:

_ As soon as you speak, agent Loskov, we'll leave you alone. You don't have to do this. I see you're not feeling well. If you want a doctor, just ask. We'll help you.

Kestrel kept his eyes closed and ignored him. The agent waited for about twenty seconds before leaving him, closing the door. Kestrel sighed deeply in hunger and soon fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion, hoping that Sam and the team would soon clear him.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sam was like a cat on hot bricks, pacing angrily the control room. The whole team and their analysts had been working almost non-stop since three days to find data, and Charlie was on the verge of penetrating the CIA database. The poor tech had giant bags under his eyes and self-sustained on caffeine, but he was like a part of his computer, intent on finding a path to the CIA's secrets.

Next to him, Grim was helping him and was ready to assist him in case they were detected, but so far nothing had happened. And Briggs was sleeping on his desk, head on his arms, having collapsed two hours ago after thirty-six hours of wakefulness. Sam, having slept four hours total since Kestrel's arrest, was like in a fog, but he fueled on coffee and anger.

He had tried to alert the president Caldwell, but she had told him to wait for the CIA's evidence, which was due to arrive later that afternoon, but Sam couldn't wait any longer. He shot a glance at the clock and read 5.58 am. Suddenly Charlie's triumphant shout jarred him and made Briggs awake with a start.

_ I'm in! At last!

_ Good, Sam said, going right behind him and Grim. Charlie, find the intel of the SVR. Grim, the recording.

They both nodded and set to work. Sam let a ruthless smile on his lips. Soon they would know what all that mess was about, and he couldn't wait to go and fetch Kestrel in Langley. He turned to Briggs who was waking with difficulty and told him gently:

_ Go get a shower, Briggs. We'll soon leave to Langley, I hope.

Briggs nodded and exited the room. A few minutes later, Grim said:

_ I have it!

_ Play it, please, Sam said.

The two of them went to the console while Charlie was staying focused on his task, and she played the recording. Kestrel's voice rose from the loudspeaker:

_ Yes?

_ Everything comes in time to him who knows how to wait, Kossiak said in Russian.

_ Tolstoi, my favourite author, Kestrel replied calmly. I have a book written by him in my bookcase, you're lucky.

_ Hi, Michka. I just wanted to hear from you.

_ I'm all right, Igor, thanks. You?

_ I'm great, my friend.

_ What a delighted voice! Kestrel commented, visibly amused. What happened to you?

_ I've met someone.

_ Really? That's fantastic!

_ Yes, we've been dating for two months now, and I think she's the one I've been waiting for.

_ Do I know her?

_ I don't think so, Kossiak's voice said apologetically, but even if you did...

_ I understand, my friend. Doesn't matter, as long as you're happy.

_ I am. What about you, then? Are you feeling better?

_ Yes, thanks. I'm on holidays right now, and I take time to do simple things. For example, I went fishing yesterday in a small river, and I caught a pike.

_ Did you eat it?

_ Yes, it tasted great. Cooked it on a roasting fire, like in my youth.

_ I'm happy for you.

_ Thanks, my friend.

_ Well, I must leave. Take care, Michka.

_ You too, Igor.

The recording stopped, and Sam exchanged a bewildered look with Grim.

_ How could they find Kestrel's guiltiness in this?

_ We know Kestrel and Kossiak, Grim explained seriously, so we know this doesn't mean anything other than what they meant. But maybe the CIA has built up a spying scenario upon some of their words.

_ Ignorant donkeys, Sam grumbled.

_ Bingo! Charlie yelled in victory, rising swiftly from his chair. I have the file! It's about some industrial contracts between Russian companies and foreign countries, nothing of vital importance. But look at this.

He sent the file on the SMI and pointed to the name at the top:

_ The file's name is "Small river", and although it has been created two weeks ago, the file has been named four days later, last Monday. Weird, huh?

_ Hang on, Sam said. Grim, play the recording again.

She obliged, and he listened to it intently. Then he said as it finished:

_ Kestrel told Igor he's been fishing in a small river. And it's true, he also told me about it when I phoned him. He caught a pike during a fishing contest and ate it. He even said...

Sam's thoughts went on fast forward, and he added quickly:

_ He told me that there was a local television channel and that he thought he had made the front page of the fishing newspaper, having caught the biggest pike.

_ My God! Grim was appalled. Don't tell me they believe he's a spy because he went fishing in Boise!

_ We're missing something, Sam shook his head. The name of the intel file is certainly a coincidence, but why are the CIA agents certain that Kestrel and Kossiak spoke in coded words?

_Charlie, Grim said. Please find the translating of the recording.

Charlie went in front of his computer again, and Sam said:

_ All of this because of a pike he caught, I can't believe it. It was just his luck that Kossiak phoned him on Sun...

He stopped abruptly, realization dawning on him. The days! The days didn't match!

_ Assholes! he shouted in anger. Bastards! They are just a bunch of fucking donkeys, all of them!

_ Sam? Grim asked him in concern. What's...

_ The date! he roared. It's different! Charlie told us the file has been named last Monday. But Kossiak phoned Kestrel the day before, on Sunday! How could they have known? How is a name chosen?

_ It's a random choice from a computer program, Briggs said, entering the control room, looking better. It's chosen a few days later after a new file is created, for security reasons.

_ So there is no way Kestrel could have known about it?

_ None, Briggs confirmed with a smile.

_ Yes! Sam rejoiced. I knew he was innocent!

_ But how could they think he's guilty, then? Grim wondered, eyebrows knitted.

_ I have the translation, Charlie said, sending it on the console.

They all bent on it, and Sam spotted it soon:

_ There! They wrote "thing" instead of "pike"! Morons! It changes the sentence, all right! No wonder they thought about coded words!

_ How could they make a mistake like that? Charlie asked, not knowing Russian.

_ The two words are very close, Sam explained, since it's щука (shtshuka) for "pike" and штука (shtuka) for "thing".

_ Not an excuse, Briggs rumbled. It's lame, and because of that Kestrel's being interrogated since three days for nothing!

_ Grim? Sam turned towards her. I need to phone the president. Is she awake?

_ 6.30 am, she read. I think so, but...

_ Make the call.

She did it without hesitating, obviously seeing his rage. All this mess would have been a giant joke if not for his ops being detained for a mistranslation and a difference of days. He was seething, but he inhaled deeply. The loudspeaker was on, so everybody heard the ringings , then the personal assistant of the president answering. Grim told him to pass them the president as it was urgent, and surprisingly the man obeyed. Sam thought that maybe Caldwell was keeping track of this file since it involved a man to whom she herself had offered the American citizenship.

Finally Sam heard her Midwest accent rising:

_ Mr Fisher?

_ Good morning, Madam President. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I have news about my agent.

_ Have you cleared him?

_ Yes. He has nothing to do with the leaks, and he's being interrogated and detained under false pretences.

_ Can you prove it?

Her tone was serious, and Sam knew he had to be convincing. But he knew he was right, so he stated calmly:

_ Yes, Madam President.

_ Tell me.

Sam then explained the situation to her, and when he finished, silence was thick on the line. At last he heard her sighing and she said:

_ Sadly I can't go to Langley this morning, but I would gladly have come to kick Zeller's ass. Such mistakes are a shame for a supposedly professional agency like the CIA. Go to Langley, Mr Fisher, and bring agent Kestrel back with you. Show your evidence to Zeller and his men, and if he complains, tell him to phone the White House.

_ Will do, Madam President.

_ And Mr Fisher? Please present my apologies to agent Kestrel for having suspected him of being a spy.

_ I will, Madam President.

_ Good day to you all.

The line went dead, and Sam looked at his team, a smile on his face.

_ Right. Grim and Charlie, you go to sleep. You need rest. We'll have work to find the real mole. Briggs, we're going to Langley to kick some butts.

His ops nodded, and they were about to leave when Sam turned, struck by an idea.

_ Wait! he told Charlie and Grim. Before going to bed, could you find the report of that local television channel on the fishing contest last Saturday? Kestrel told me he had been filmed. Another evidence in our basket if we can have it.

_ We'll find it, Sam, she said, although he could see she was utterly exhausted. As soon as we have it, I'll send it on your OPSAT.

_ Thanks. Now we're off.

Briggs behind him, he strode towards the black van and climbed behind the wheel. During the trip to Langley he kept his cool, but he knew that when he arrived, the CIA bastards would hear about Sam Fisher and his nasty temper.

* * *

When Kestrel was awakened by the usual light footsteps in the corridor, he wanted to sit up and be ready, but this time his body failed him. He had no strength left and couldn't even raise his hands. So he stayed motionless on his bunk, eyes open, and ignored the two guards. He recognized agent Dawson's quick pace and heard him say:

_ Agent Loskov, get up.

Kestrel lay still, unable to obey. He heard the agent ordering him to get up again, then walking briskly to his bunk. Kestrel turned his gaze on him and saw the agent looking genuinely concerned. Not a complete jerk, after all.

_ You can't get up?

Kestrel slowly shook his head. The effort almost made him black out, but he resisted the tentation to faint. Just a little bit more, he thought. Sam will come later today. Just a little bit more.

Agent Dawson asked him:

_ Do you want me to call a doctor?

Again, he shook his head, then closed his eyes. He could hear next to him the poor agent shuffling hesitantly, but he would not help him in any way.

_ Agent Loskov, you're dehydrated and weak. If we don't help you, you can fall into a coma or even die. Let us help you.

Kestrel simply ignored him. At long last, he heard the CIA agent exit his cell and the door closed behind him. Then he made the huge effort of rolling on his side to retch on the floor beside his bunk. After he stopped feeling sick, he fell back on the bed and closed his eyes. His head was spinning fast, and he felt feverish and nauseous. But he would hold on.

His mind wandered off in a daze, but he grasped one certainty firmly anchored: don't talk. Time passed by, he didn't know how much anymore, but suddenly the door opened violently. Familiar footsteps penetrated his conscience, and he heard Sam's voice right next to his ear:

_ Kestrel! Oh, my God! Kestrel! Open your eyes!

He tried to lift his eyelids, but they seemed to be sewn together. He heard Briggs talking urgently, calling Grim and asking her to send Dr Collins and call an ambulance for them, and Sam yelling at someone in the corridor.

_ How could you let him in this state? Why haven't you driven him to hospital?

Kestrel vaguely heard Zeller murmuring a pitiful answer, but Sam was obviously mad. He felt his hand's boss on his arm and heard him saying again gently:

_ Kestrel. Open your eyes, sonny.

Kestrel was surprised. It had been a long time since his boss had called him "sonny", but it warmed his heart. With a tremendous effort he lifted his eyelids, and soon saw Sam's blurred face bent over him.

_ That's good. Keep your eyes open, Kestrel. An ambulance is coming for you, but we'll bring you back to the Paladin.

Kestrel didn't even have the strength to nod, and he said with a hoarse and feeble voice:

_ Sam... You cleared me?

_ Yes, the Splinter Cell told him firmly. You're innocent, Kestrel, and the CIA acknoweledges it at last. Sorry to be so late.

_ I held my promise, he murmured, his head spinning more than ever. Didn't tell them anything.

_ I know, Kestrel. But now you're in danger, you're completely dehydrated. Dr Collins is coming, but a CIA doctor will arrive any minute now.

_ No. They want to make me talk... by putting a drug in an IV.

_ How do you know? Sam's voice was an angry rumble.

_ Heard them. Zeller told Tomlinson.

_ Don't worry, Briggs and I will protect you. You won't be drugged, I promise.

Kestrel felt reassured as a doctor came next to him and placed a catheter in his elbow, connecting a drip infusion to rehydrate him, under Sam's close supervision. Then he felt himself falling through his bunk and let his exhausted mind slip into the dark and painfree void.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

When the CIA doctor told Sam and Briggs that Kestrel had lost consciousness, all Sam wanted was smashing Zeller's face into a pulp. So he told Briggs to stay with Kestrel and wait for Dr Collins, then he gestured at the very embarrassed CIA agents to follow him in a nearby conference room. Then he faced Zeller, Tomlinson, Daniels and Dawson, and lashed out. He couldn't remember having yelled so loudly and furiously at someone in his whole life, but in front of him the CIA agents were trembling from head to foot, like naughty pupils caught red-handed by their teacher.

_ Bastards! Assholes! Sons of a bitch! You're completely irresponsible! As if it wasn't enough you screwed up and framed the wrong person, but now my ops is so weak he may die! And he told me he heard you, Zeller! You told Tomlinson to drug an IV! How can you stand watching your reflection in your mirror every morning? You disgust me! My ops is American, you had no right to treat him so badly! I would gladly teach you manners, you're lucky I'm in a hurry to bring my ops to hospital!

He paused, eyeing them with fury and disgust, but he saw real concern and shame on their faces. Even Zeller was looking remorseful, and Daniels was on the verge of tears. But he breathed deeply and went on more calmly:

_ Now that we proved my ops is innocent, I hope you'll be looking for the real culprit and let us help you, although I really don't know why we should help you after what you've done.

Zeller stepped forward and said, his voice as firm as he could manage:

_ I owe you and your team huge apologies, Mr Fisher. It's true we messed up, and I'm really sorry about agent Loskov's state. But please, we need your help.

Sam shot him a seething stare, but was moved by the man's remorse and most of all his rather desperate look. The leaks were driving him crazy, it was obvious, and the CIA hierarchy was probably on his back all the time. Maybe he had cracked under the strain about Kestrel. So Sam decided to give him the benefit of a doubt.

_ I accept your apologies, agent Zeller, but not in the name of my ops. You'll have to beg him for forgiveness yourself.

_ I swear to you I'll do, Zeller said shamefully. But please help us.

_ We will, Sam said at last. But we'll work from our own headquarters, so send everything you have to Fourth Echelon. We'll concentrate on the middlemen and the receivers of the intel, and you will focus on the mole within your ranks. And of course you won't hide anything from us again, and we'll talk about your incredible mistakes when my ops is better. Agreed?

_ Agreed, Zeller nodded gratefully. Thanks, Mr Fisher.

Sam nodded curtly then strode out of the room, back to Kestrel's cell. The ambulance had arrived, and the two paramedics were putting Kestrel onto their stretcher. Seconds later Dr Collins entered the crowded cell, as he lived near Langley it had taken him little time to come, and hastily bent over Kestrel. The two doctors quickly exchanged information, then Dr Collins said:

_ We'll leave now.

Sam followed agent Tomlinson who was to lead the way to the outside through the maze of corridors, Briggs, Dr Collins and Kestrel on his stretcher behind him. Soon they reached the ambulance, Tomlinson leaving them with a gloomy smile after handing him Kestrel's wallet, and Sam told Dr Collins:

_ Give us your keys, Briggs will drive your car to Baltimore. Stay with him.

Dr Collins handed the ops his keys and told him:

_ It's the red Ford Mustang with Illinois license plates.

_ Okay.

Sam watched the ambulance speeding away and hurriedly went with Briggs to the parking lot. Briggs soon spotted the doc's car, and Sam went behind the van's wheel, turmoil in his mind. He was still very angry at the CIA agents' mistakes and furious at them having let Kestrel weakening himself like that without bringing him to hospital. And he was worried about Kestrel's state, even if he knew that Dr Collins would take care of him and that his ops was tough.

The trip to the Paladin was very short for Sam's mind, and soon he parked the van inside the plane's hangar. Then he helped the medical crew transfering Kestrel from one stretcher to another, minding his drip infusion, and followed him and Dr Collins to the infirmary, Briggs on his heels. Kestrel was still pale and unconscious, but he had less tightened features already.

Once inside the infirmary, Sam and Briggs stayed near the door and watched Dr Collins, helped by Andrews, a male nurse, monitoring Kestrel's vitals and taking a blood sample. Then the doc conected two more drip infusions to the ops' catheter, and turned at last towards the waiting men who entered the room.

_ His state is reassuring, he said calmly with a small smile. You arrived before it was too late. I'm giving him rehydrating and feeding solutions, so he should be on his feet in no time. For an average human it would take a week at least, but I expect to see him in the kitchen tomorrow morning. He has a strong fever, though, but I'm giving him paracetamol, it should be all right.

_ That's great news, Sam said, feeling a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. Thanks a lot, doc.

_ My pleasure, Dr Collins said simply.

Briggs gave him back his keys and said:

_ Nice car, doc.

_ Yes, I quite like driving it around.

_ Please tell us when Kestrel awakes, doc, Sam said.

_ Sam?

Kestrel's voice behind him startled him, and he abruptly turned round to see his ops, eyes open, lying on the bed with a puzzled expression on his face. He strode next to him and bent over him as Dr Collins went to the other side of the bed, surveying carefully his patient.

_ I'm here, Kestrel. How are you feeling?

_ Hot, Kestrel said, sweat trickling down his forehead. Where am I?

_ In the Paladin's infirmary.

_ What happened? Hang on...

Kestrel frowned in concentration, his eyes wandering a little, and across Sam Dr Collins frowned. He waved his hand in front of Kestrel's eyes, the ops didn't react. He asked him:

_ Agent Kestrel, do you recognize me?

Kestrel stared blankly at him and slowly smiled.

_ Dr Collins. How nice. I hope you got rid of the mice since last time.

Sam felt worry rising in him, and the doc's anxious face did nothing to appease him.

_ Agent Kestrel, the doc said calmly, obviously trying to hide his anxiety, how many people is there in this room?

Kestrel looked around him, and when Sam met his eyes he saw his ops wasn't fully there with them. He knew a severe dehydration could induce blackouts and a coma, and sometimes disturbances in consciousness, but it was the first time he was seeing it, although he had already seen Kestrel having hallucinations.

_ Четыре мужчин. _(Four men)_

_ Good, Dr Collins said with a calm tone, not surprised at the language change. And do you remember where you are now?

_ The chalet, Kestrel answered in Russian, looking in the corner of the room. I can see the waterfall. It's so beautiful.

_ Kestrel? Sam called him out softly. Do you remember what happened yesterday?

_ I went fishing, Kestrel said in Russian. Caught a pike, cooked it on a fire. It was delicious. And I chopped wood. The shack is full of logs. Sam will be happy.

Sam exchanged a worried look with Briggs and Dr Collins, but the doc looked less concerned, Sam knew he didn't speak Russian. Sam told him:

_ He thinks he's in Boise's chalet, seeing the waterfall.

_ Now you're in your bed in the chalet, agent Kestrel, the doc said with a very calm, hypnotic voice. The sun is setting. Your eyelids are heavy, and you want to sleep.

_ Спать _(Sleep)_ , Kestrel murmured, his eyelids drooping. Я так устал. _(I'm so tired.)_

He fell asleep, and Dr Collins checked his pulse, then took his temperature in his ear.

_ 104°F, he said seriously. He's delirious from the fever and dehydration. Andrews, the ice!

The male nurse quickly took out from the freezer medical blocks of ice, and he and the doc put them on and around Kestrel, who didn't stir but murmured in Russian:

_ The Neva is still cold. I'll take a dip nevertheless.

_ He thinks he's in Saint Petersburg, Sam explained to the puzzled doc with a worried voice, and that he's swimming in the Neva.

_ Appropriate, the doc nodded, still putting ice around the burning ops. But we must keep our voices low and calm. If we wake him up and stress him now, he could...

_ Sam! Charlie yelled, bursting into the room, panting and looking excited. There's been another leak! Some Russian top-secret list of navy boats currently in operation has reached the German BND, and...

_ Hush, Charlie! Sam hissed angrily.

But it was too late, and Sam saw Kestrel's eyes flying open as the ops sat on his bunk, making the ice blocks raining around him. He looked at Charlie with a cold stare, poker face on, and Sam knew at once his ops was in action mode. So he walked right in front of Charlie, shielding him from Kestrel's stare, and said calmly in English:

_ Kestrel, everything's under control. You're dehydrated and need rest, we'll...

_ You stole Russia' intelligence, Kestrel stated calmly in Russian. Then you're my enemies.

_ Kestrel, Sam said as calmly as he could, you're American and in Fourth Echelon, do you remember? Do you recognize us? I'm Sam Fisher, and you know Dr Collins, Isaac Briggs and Charlie Cole.

Sam saw Kestrel's eyes, burning with fever, looking carefully at each man in the room, but no spark of recognition in them. So Sam made a discreet sign at Briggs who quietly backed to the door shielding Charlie, and stepped forward, ready to face his ops if needed.

_ Kestrel? Do you recognize me? he asked, steeling his nerves.

He heard Charlie and Briggs running away in the corridor but stayed focused on his ops. He knew Kestrel was much stronger than him and could easily kill them all in a frenzy, but he had to protect his team. He asked again:

_ Kestrel? Do you recognize me?

The ops frowned, and some confusion surfaced on his face. Sam saw with growing alarm that he was sweating like mad and swaying on his bed, but he had to calm things down first. He inhaled deeply and was about to call him out again when Briggs' footsteps echoed behind him. His other ops entered the infirmary and walked calmly next to Sam, holding out Kestrel's photo and chain. Sam shot him a grateful look and told Kestrel:

_ Kestrel, do you remember entrusting these things to us? We've cleared you, so you can have them back.

Kestrel's gaze moved onto the small objects, and suddenly his eyes lit up. He exclaimed in Russian:

_ Now I remember! I left them on the Paladin's dining table!

_ Yes, Briggs said, carefully walking towards him. Here, you can have them back.

Kestrel's hands groped for the objects, and Briggs let him take them and backed a step. Sam went next to his ops and said calmly:

_ You're safe, Kestrel. You're aboard the Paladin with us. We'll protect you.

Kestrel was staring intently at the photo, having put his chain back on, and Sam saw he had more and more difficulty keeping his eyes open and focused. Kestrel swayed more than ever, and Dr Collins went to the other side of the bed with Briggs, ready to catch him. The doc said softly:

_ Agent Kestrel, you should lie down. You're burning with fever, we need to make your temperature decrease.

_ Alpha was burning with fever when she came back from her mission in New York, he said absent-mindedly, and Sam felt reassured hearing that he was speaking English. She was so much in pain then. And she died. Why? Why did she have to die?

Kestrel raised his head and locked eyes with his boss, looking lost and desperate. Sam knew Alpha's second anniversary of death was approaching, and his ops was still suffering from her absence. But there was nothing he could do about it except take care of him, so he said calmly, forcing down his emotion:

_ She died because she wanted to bring Meggido down. And she died because she was dying from cancer, and the pain was killing her. She was a hero, Kestrel, and she's still here in our hearts.

Kestrel nodded and abruptly his eyes rolled back in his head. He fell towards Sam who quickly caught him and, helped by Briggs, put him back on his bed. Then the two of them helped Dr Colllins picking up all the blocks of ice and putting them back on Kestrel. Sam was alarmed at how hot his ops' skin felt, but soon Dr Collins, who was thoroughly checking on him, gave him reassuring news.

_ He'll be all right. But now, no more shouts, so please leave us.

Sam nodded and left, followed by Briggs. The ops said:

_ Lucky I thought about his things, or he would've attacked us.

_ Yeah, thanks, Briggs. But the blame is Charlie's, he knows he can't run into the infirmary shouting like that. Kestrel's just been brought back after nearly four days of interrogation and deprivation, his state his quite worrying.

_ You heard the doc, Briggs said as they entered the control room, he'll be all right.

Grim and Charlie abruptly rose at seeing them walking towards them, and the team gathered around the SMI. Grim asked him seriously:

_ How is he?

_ He has a strong fever and is dehydrated, but he'll be fine.

_ Why is he dehydrated?

_ He hasn't eaten or drunk anything since he's been arrested, and these CIA bastards haven't raised any finger to help him when his state deteriorated.

Grim looked shocked, and next to her Charlie had a gloomy expression on his face. The tech said:

_ I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have shouted like that. I thought... I thought he would throw himself on you when you protected me, Sam. He could've killed you.

_ Don't worry, Charlie, Sam said with a soothing voice and a small smile. Kestrel's fever was making him delirious, but now he'll be okay. So, what's the story about that intel?

_ It's been stolen yesterday from Langley, Grim said seriously, and today it has reached the German BND. One more proof that Kestrel is innocent, as he was in the CIA's custody. But this time the intel is very sensitive.

_ The Russian navy boats currently in operation, Charlie said. Including the submarines. The SVR learned about it, and they're furious. Stepankova and Kossiak are on tenterhooks, they want blood.

Sam could imagine Valentina Stepankova, the new SVR director, and Kossiak fuming in Moscow. He wondered how he himself would react if something like that happened to the American Navy boats.

_ How has the CIA learned about the boats in the first place? he asked.

_ Apparently they have a mole in the Russian armed forces staff, Grim told him. But such intel released is a bomb ready to be triggered, Sam. It means no intel is safe anymore, and if the person who stole it suddenly decides to call the media instead of intelligence agencies...

Sam swallowed. They couldn't have another Wikileaks, it would be a disaster. So he said:

_ We'll work on it as soon as we have a few hours of sleep. It's going to be a long day, so let's meet at noon for lunch, then we'll set to work.

The team nodded, and Sam rubbed his eyes before retreating to his cabin, wanting to have some well-earned rest.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

When Kestrel awoke, he wondered why he felt so cold and shivering. It was pitch dark around him except for a dim light coming from a desk lamp and small colour points on various machines. He realized he was in the Paladin's infirmary, and he sat up. Some things went tumbling down around him, and he grabbed one. It was a block of ice in some plastic matter, and it was these things that made him shivering. Looking around him, he noticed someone reclining on the chair a few meters away, and he recognized Andrews, the male nurse, fast asleep.

Sighing and still shivering, he felt his stomach rumbling loudly, and got up. He carefully removed the IV from his elbow and the electrodes from his chest. Then he quickly shut off the machines that were starting to emit alarm sounds, and shot a glance at the nurse, but he was sleeping soundly. So he quietly left and went to his cabin to grab fresh clothes and a sweatshirt, then he headed straight for a shower.

The hot water felt like heaven after four days in a cell and on a bed, and it warmed him. Then he dressed and went back to his cabin to put on his OPSAT. It was 3.17 in the morning, but he was starving. So he went to the kitchen and looked around him. He found a loaf of bread and some beef jerky with a piece of cheddar, and he wolfed all of it down with large glasses of water. After that he felt better, but was wide awake and not eager to sleep again. So he went to the control room and switched on the SMI.

The console quickly showed him what the team had been doing while he was out, and he saw that the newest leak, about Russian Navy boats, had reached Germany. The team had visibly concentrated on the middlemen of the leaking, as a few profiles were displayed. But the research had stopped there, and sadly he was not into computers and hacking. He knew the basics, of course, but he couldn't carry out the search on his own. However, one name triggered a memory, but it was fuzzy. So he searched in their copy of Voron's database and buried himself in his old mission reports.

Two hours later, he found the name in a report of a mission he did with Ivan Kossiak, his dead best friend, in Ukraine seven years ago. He read it carefully, remembering the details. They had had to sabotage a plant in Kharkiv, but another team of foreign agents had almost run into them. French agents from the DGSE. He and Kossiak had hidden in the plant, and they had caught the two men searching the company's servers, as it was a shell company for a branch of the Ukrainian mafiya.

Then they had interrogated the French agents, and the two men had told them their names but nothing else. And since Voron hadn't wanted to be in conflict with the DGSE, Kestrel and Kossiak had let the agents go. But Kestrel remembered now the face of the man he had interrogated, a tough man called Maxime Blanchard. He had been a very resilient and stubborn adversary, and Kestrel had had to admit the guy had guts.

He concentrated on the guy's profile and saw that Blanchard had been kicked out of the DGSE two years ago, and was now a ruthless mercenary. But why an unattached man kicked out of an intelligence agency would help foreign agencies and his old one? That didn't make sense at all. The guy was probably following orders, but who would do such things and why?

A faint sound in the corridor reached his ears, and he straightened, listening intently. Then he recognized the light footsteps, and sure enough Grim entered the control room seconds later, looking surprised.

_ Kestrel? I didn't expect seeing you here, and working. How are you?

_ Fine, thanks. I feel much better, and I wanted to know where you were in the mission. I saw that you've been following some trails, and I have something on a man of your list.

She walked next to him, loooking concentrated and professional, and said:

_ Show me.

He explained about his mission in Kharkiv, showing her his mission report, and she listened intently. When he was done, she asked:

_ Has this Blanchard struck you as a patriotic spy ready to do something rash?

_ No, unlike his comrade. He was ruthless and calculating, not the impulsive type. Why has he been fired from the DGSE?

_ He's been convicted for treason, having sold sensitive intel to China, but has fled France before being arrested. He's believed to be in Beijing now.

_ Is the Chinese hypothesis a serious one? he asked.

_ Absolutely, she nodded grimly. We know for certain the Chinese MSS wants to be a credible rival of the SVR and the NSA and CIA. It would be a feather in their cap if they are the ones behind the CIA leaks.

_ Do we know if the CIA is the only agency at having been targeted, or are there other leaks?

Grim stared at him with an astonished expression, and he saw that his question hadn't been considered before. At last she said:

_ That's a very good question. I really don't know.

_ It could help to know if other agencies have the same problem, he justified. A process of elimination.

_ Already at work, honey? Sam's voice came from the corridor. Who're you talking to? Oh!

Sam entered the room and blinked at the sight of Kestrel, who smiled.

_ Good morning, Sam. Sleep well?

_ Yeah, but... How're you feeling?

_ I'm great. Thanks for clearing me and bringing me back here.

_ It was the least I could do for you, Kestrel. But Dr Collins will be mad at you for having left the infirmary.

_ Not my fault if Andrews is a heavy sleeper, Kestrel shrugged. I needed a hot shower and a meal. Had them, feel better.

_ Okay, Sam nodded, obviously not surprised. So, are you two making progress?

_ Maybe, Grim told him. Kestrel met the French guy, Blanchard, seven years ago. Not impulsive but calculating. It could be him.

_ But how do we prove it? Sam asked darkly. How can we track him?

Kestrel heaved a sigh, and Sam and Grim shot him a surprised look. For him it was obvious, although he didn't like it.

_ Have you got no idea? Where does a mercenary shop for guns and ammo?

_ Kobin, Grim said immediately, and Kestrel nodded reluctantly.

_ The mercenaries operate on a rather small market. If somebody knows Blanchard, it's Kobin.

Sam groaned, and Kestrel inwardly did the same. He still hadn't forgotten what Kobin had done to him, even if the asshole had helped them in Malta in January. But Grim said firmly:

_ I'll call him immediately.

She dialed his number on the SMI and soon they could hear the ringings through the loudspeaker, just as Briggs and Charlie were entering the room. After five ringings, the line was picked up.

_ Yes?

_ Hi Kobin! It's Grim.

_ The Ice Queen, Kobin sighed, angering Kestrel at lightspeed. What can I do for you?

_ Do you know a French mercenary called Maxime Blanchard?

_ Max? Of course, I know him. Regular customer, he drops by four or five times a year. Why?

_ Has he got a job these days?

_ The hell if I know, Kobin grumbled. Not my business. My customers' contracts don't concern me, Ice Queen. If it did, I'd be dead.

_ Do you know who are his close friends, then? Sam asked.

_ Fisher... I really didn't miss you and your clique.

_ The sooner you answer our questions, the sooner we leave you alone, Kobin, Sam rumbled. So?

_ Okay, okay. He's friends with a Chinese band of mercs, who might or might not be following Beijing's orders, depends on the job. But I don't know anything else, so don't ask.

_ And do you know where Blanchard is these days?

_ In Europe, I guess, Kobin said. Saw him four days ago, he was heading to Germany. He has good faked papers, but I don't know his new identity.

_ Okay, Grim said. Thanks, Kobin. Keep in touch.

_ Ha! As if!

The line went dead, and Kestrel stared at the team. They had a serious expression on, and he knew they were on a credible trail. Sam opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment an outraged shout from the infirmary resonated in the control room.

_ Agent Kestrel!

Kestrel felt like a child caught red-handed in the jar of jam, and whispered:

_ Uh oh.

He knew at once that Dr Collins was going to give him a good dressing-down, and sighed heavily, bracing himself. Around him, Sam and Grim shot him an encouraging look while Briggs and Charlie were suppressing smirks. And when the doctor, looking furious, stormed into the room, Kestrel was ready. He faced him calmly and took the blame without flinching.

_ Agent Kestrel, there you are! What the fuck are you doing out of your bed? You're completely nuts! After a severe dehydration and a burning fever, you should be half-dead in the infirmary! I don't care if you heal fast and are way stronger than the average ops! Now you're gonna get your ass in the infirmary right now to have a complete check-up, or I shoot you in the butt with a sleeping dart and drag you there with Andrews!

Behind the doc's back Briggs and Charlie were stifling their laughter, which didn't help Kestrel keeping a straight face, but he replied calmly:

_ I'm sorry, doc. I was cold and hungry when I woke up, and I'm feeling fine.

_ Excuses! Dr Collins roared angrily. Now follow me!

Kestrel set off at once, shaking his head, behind the doc. When he entered the infirmary, he spotted Andrews in a corner, looking shameful, and guessed that the poor guy had had his share of reproach already. Without a word the doc pointed to the bed, and he sat. Then the doc took out his stethoscope and tensiometer, and carefully examined him. He checked his body temperature and his pupils, then his reflexes. At last he took a step back and asked him briskly:

_ What's your full name?

Kestrel raised an eyebrow, but the doc was solemn as a judge and still looking angry, so he answered him calmly:

_ Mikhail Andreyevitch Loskov.

_ What nationality are you?

_ American.

_ Who are you working for?

_ Fourth Echelon.

_ What's the name of your commander?

_ Sam Fisher.

The doc surveyed him with a serious expression, and Kestrel felt uneasiness creeping into his guts. Something weird was going on, but he hadn't got a clue what, so he asked at last:

_ Why are you asking me this, doc?

The doc inhaled deeply and said:

_ Don't you remember what happened yesterday, in here?

Bewildered, Kestrel shook his head, and the doc didn't look surprised. He explained patiently, recovering some of his usual calm:

_ When we brought you back, you had a burning fever which made you delirious. You started to speak in Russian and believe we were your enemies.

_ Really?

Kestrel felt embarrassed and ashamed, though he hadn't got any memory of the incident. But the doc softened a little and went to sit next to him.

_ I daresay this is quite a normal reaction after what you've been through, but I think that you ought to know. The team hasn't told you, I suppose?

_ No, Kestrel said, crestfallen. But why did I do that? I don't understand...

_ Easy, Dr Collins said gently. You were on self-defence mode, and in such cases your conscience goes back to the most stable emotional ground it can find. And it happens to be when you were still Russian, agent Kestrel. I'm not telling you that you're not truly American or one of us, don't misunderstand me. What I'm saying is that you still haven't found true peace with us, and that will take time. But don't worry, you'll find it.

Kestrel nodded, not really convinced, but promising himself to make huge efforts to appease his mind at last. But the doctor added with a smile:

_ I have to say though that when you were delirious, you thought you were in Idaho, in Fourth Echelon's chalet, seeing a waterfall. It seems to me that place is very important to you, so if you want to find peace in your mind, it will be there.

Kestrel locked eyes with him, and nodded calmly. That made perfect sense for him, and he swore to himself that he'd ask Grim and Sam again to spend his next holidays in the chalet. Dr Collins said at last, quite reluctantly:

_ You're healed, agent Kestrel. You may go, but I want to check on you again before your next mission. Right?

_ Okay, doc. Thanks.

_ Off you go, then.

Kestrel was about to leave when he thought about something that had been jostling in his mind for a long time, since Alpha's death in fact. He turned round and asked Dr Collins:

_ Doc? Can I ask you something?

_ Of course, agent Kestrel.

_ Do you know of a military Eastern Orthodox Christian chaplain whom I could talk to?

The doc shot him a serious but understanding look, and Kestrel waited patiently. His faith had never been primordial in his life, but since Alpha's death he needed to talk to someone about it and his tormented life, and for security reasons it had to be a military chaplain. And he knew their doc could help him on that matter.

_ I might know of someone who's helping special forces' ops, the doc said at last. A Navy chaplain in that precise religion, who's currently in holidays. He's my neighbour, so I know him a little bit. A good man.

_ Could you ask him if he would see and hear me, please? Kestrel asked hopefully.

_ Of course, agent Kestrel. I'll phone him right away, and maybe you'll see him today, before we leave Baltimore.

_ That would be great. Thanks, doc.

_ I'll let you know as soon as I have news.

Kestrel smiled and left, heading back towards the control room. His mind felt already better to have spoken at last about his wish, but he had to tell Sam. And when he entered the control room, Sam greeted him with a smile.

_ No sleeping dart sticking out of your ass? Wonderful!

_ Everything's okay, Kestrel said, grinning.

_ We were waiting for you, Kestrel, Grim told him gently. Breakfast time!

_ I'm starving! Briggs said, leading the way to the dining cabin.

Sam prepared the coffee and set the table with Charlie, and Kestrel started to eat his usual eight bagels with the three mugs of coffee. His huge appetite hadn't increased, fortunately, but still he needed a lot of food to be well. That reminded him he hadn't talked about it with the doc yet, he had to do it someday soon.

Halfway through his sixth bagel the doc poked his head in the room and told him:

_ Agent Kestrel, Father Bokariov will be here in an hour.

_ Thanks a lot, doc, he said gratefully after swallowing his mouthful.

The doc left, and Kestrel noticed the team's puzzled stares. He told them quietly:

_ I asked the doc to see an orthodox chaplain, and fortunately his neighbour is one in the Navy.

Sam, Grim and Briggs had an understanding look and nodded. Charlie still looked puzzled, but Kestrel didn't care. He would soon unburden part of his conscience, and that was all that mattered for him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: This is a particular chapter, since it was inspired by my own experience. Things are maybe a little different in the US, but in France it can happen like that, and that's what happened to me and my baby. Enjoy this chapter, and please review!**

Chapter 8

When the team finished the breakfast, Sam cleared the table with Grim then called a meeting. He knew that Kestrel would have to leave them to see the chaplain soon, but it was all the better, he thought. His ops' state of mind was more important than ever, and if Kestrel needed to talk to a military chaplain, he would do all that was necessary for him to do so.

The team gathered around the console, and Sam started:

_ Okay. We've got no news from our treacherous CIA friends, but that doesn't surprise me. But we might have something on the middleman. It is possible it's this French mercenary, Maxime Blanchard. Kestrel met him seven years ago, so he knows the guy is calculating. And Kobin told us that he was going to Germany four days ago, quite a coincidence. So, how do we proceed?

_ We have to track him, Grim said. He's linked to China, and it could be the MSS behind the CIA leaks. But as Kestrel pointed out, we must know if other agencies have been targeted as well.

Sam shot an admirative look at his ops, who was poker-faced as always, and turned towards Briggs who was saying:

_ Then let's learn all of this before we take off, and we should have a meeting with Zeller and his team.

_ No, Sam shook his head. Maybe the mole is him or one of his team, we can't take such a risk. It would alert our enemies, and we still don't know who they are. Suspicions are not enough. But you're right about the data, we'll stay here until we obtain it. Grim, Charlie, you'll have some hacking of foreign agencies to do. Briggs, I want you to concentrate on the CIA. I don't trust them to find the mole, that'll be your job. Kestrel, you'll phone Kossiak and ask him about some leaks in the SVR.

_ Is it wise? Kestrel asked calmly. We're rivals, Sam.

_ True, but on this matter Russia and the US agree: we can't let the Chinese MSS gain more influence, so I hope our Russian friends won't slam the door on our faces.

_ I'll try to talk to Kossiak about it, Kestrel said. But his line is bugged, and this time the CIA will really think I'm betraying the USA.

_ Our link with Voron is more important than the CIA's goals, Sam told him seriously. Tell him with your coded words that his line is bugged, but that we need to speak to him. And I'll cover you with the CIA.

_ Okay, Sam.

Kestrel took out his smartphone and dialed his friend's number. After two ringings Sam heard Kossiak's voice through the loudspeaker:

_ Да?

_ Any idiot can face a crisis, it's this day-to-day living that wears you out, Kestrel said in Russian.

_ Chekhov, the greatest Russian writer, Kossiak said, his voice sounding concerned. I have some of his books in my bookcase, but you still haven't given me one back.

_ I know, and I'm afraid it'll take time, Igor, Kestrel said.

_ Then I don't have anything more to say to you, Michka.

The line went dead, and Kestrel explained to Sam:

_ I've just told him that the CIA has bugged his line, Chekhov is for them. Now we'll have to wait for his call with a secure line, but I told him to phone me tomorrow for him, that'll be late afternoon for us.

_ Thanks, Kestrel. Now you should go outside and meet the chaplain.

_ Yes.

Sam clapped his ops on the shoulder and Kestrel smiled at him before exiting the room. Grim, Briggs and Charlie followed him with their eyes, but with different expressions on, and Sam waited for the coming commentary. And, as planned, Charlie obliged:

_ What's the matter with him? A chaplain?

_ Shut up, Charlie! Grim told him off before Sam could do so. You know Kestrel has lived five very difficult years, since Voron's betrayal. He's tough, and lucky to be still sane and in one piece, after all he's been through. Now, if he needs to talk to a chaplain, it's his right, and we have nothing to say or think about it!

Charlie looked contrite, and Grim focused on her computer. Charlie and Briggs did the same, so Sam decided to phone supervisory agent Zeller to take stock on their work. He dialed the number and heard Zeller's grumbling voice after three ringings.

_ Agent Zeller.

_ Hi, it's Sam Fisher.

_ Mr Fisher, what can I do for you?

Zeller's voice bcame softer at once, and Sam smirked in satisfaction. Obviously the dressing-down he had given him and his team before and after bringing Kestrel back had paid off. He said:

_ Have you made progress in your finding of the mole?

_ Not yet, Mr Fisher, Zeller admitted bitterly. But we're taking drastic security measures around our servers to avoid any other leak. That shouldn't happen anymore.

_ I'm glad to hear it. We are following some trails, but nothing concrete for the moment. I'll keep you posted.

_ So will I. Thanks, Mr Fisher.

Sam hung up and shot a look at the world's map on the giant screen in front of him. He wondered if China was truly behind all of this, and heaved a sigh. Suddenly, his smartphone rang in his pocket, and he took it out. His heart squeezed in dismay when he saw the name displayed on the screen: Ben Woodridge, his son-in-law. Fearing something had happened to Sarah or her babies, he picked up the line and said as calmly as possible:

_ Fisher.

_ Sam, it's Ben.

_ Ben? Is everything all right?

Sam saw Grim turning round and looking concerned, imitated by Briggs and Charlie. The team knew about Sarah's pregnancy, and Sam was impatient to be a grandfather at last. But Sarah had been often ill, and the babies were due to arrive in June, one month and a half from now. In the phone Ben had a panicked voice, and he said:

_ Sarah is in the hospital, Sam. She's giving birth!

_ What? But it's too early!

Sam felt alarmed, and Grim hurriedly came next to him, eyebrows furrowed. He switched on the loudspeaker as Ben was stammering:

_ I know, but her water broke two hours ago, and I had to call 911. She's in labor room, and it's all right for now, she got the epidural an hour ago. It'll take time, but I... I could use your presence, and Anna's, if you can.

Sam felt proud and panicked at the same time. As an orphan, Ben had no one except Sarah, Grim and him, and the poor guy looked completely stressed and lost. Sam shot a look at Briggs and Charlie, and the ops said quickly:

_ Go! We'll manage, Kestrel will give us a hand. Fortunately we're still in Baltimore, it's okay. Now go!

Sam nodded, and said in the phone while running towards the Paladin's ramp, Grim on his heels:

_ We're coming, Ben. Johns Hopkins?

_ Yes.

_ See you in half an hour.

_ Thanks, Sam.

The Splinter Cell hung up and ran towards the black van. He hopped behind the wheel, and Grim climbed next to him as he floored the accelerator. He sped out of the airport, and Grim told him soothingly:

_ Don't worry, Sam. She'll be all right, and the babies too.

_ But it's too early! They'll be premature!

_ It's all right, they'll be okay. Nowadays, premature babies grow perfectly normally without sequelae. And you must keep calm in front of Sarah and Ben. They're probably worried enough, they need us to keep cool.

_ You're right, honey.

He grabbed her hand and kissed it, his eyes still focused on the road. He knew she was right, but an irrational fear was gripping his guts. Maybe it was because his beloved daughter, his only child, was about to give birth and become a mother, but he knew things would never be the same from now on. And of course the babies' health was essential. So he stepped a little more on the accelerator, and they reached the famous Johns Hopkins hospital in twenty minutes.

He had trouble finding a parking place, but at last Grim spotted one, and they ran to the entrance. Then they asked for directions, and a helpful secretary gave them the route to the birthing center. And soon they met Ben in a waiting room, obviously waiting for them. Sam shook hands with him and Grim embraced him, and he said:

_ It's okay, Sarah is dozing off. The babies are okay, but they take their time to arrive.

_ It'll be all right, Sam told him in a reassuring voice. Giving birth is a long thing, I was there when Sarah was born. But can't you go with Sarah?

_ Yes, I can, Ben said dejectedly, but Sarah is a little... her nerves are frayed, and...

_ She shouted at you to leave her alone? Grim asked him with a smile.

_ Exactly, Ben said sadly.

_ Don't take it personally, Grim explained him patiently, putting a hand on his arm. All women are afraid of giving birth, and they don't react similarly under such an amount of stress and pain. Some want to be left alone, others want to have someone at their side permanently, some will insult everybody around them, it's perfectly normal. But Sarah needs you, Ben, more than ever. Go with her, and you'll see.

The young man nodded, then left through the door to the labor and delivery rooms. Sam shot an admirative look at the woman he loved, and asked her:

_ How do you know all this?

Grim told him quietly:

_ I've had my share of friends telling me about their experiences on that matter.

They sat on armchairs and started to wait. But Sam had a question on his lips, and he hesitated, not wanting to hurt her. But Grim obviously sensed it, because she looked straight at him and said:

_ Go on, Sam.

_ I don't want to make you suffer, he said.

_ Do you want to know if I ever wanted to have a child of mine? she asked calmly.

_ Er... Yes, he confessed, startled by her insightfulness.

_ The truth is yes, she said serenely, but that was more than ten years ago. We weren't together, then, and I was a celibate. So after ten years waiting in vain for a husband and father I grieved my fantasy baby and moved forward. And I've always considered Sarah as a daughter, so it wasn't too hard.

Sam nodded but felt a pang of pain in his heart. If things had been different, he thought. But it was too late, and they had to live with the past, however painful and full of regrets it was.

The morning passed by, followed by the afternoon, and Sam waited patiently for news, Grim at his side. And finally, at 3.45 pm he saw Ben running towards them, beaming and tears of joy in his eyes.

_ They're born! he shouted happily. They're okay, and Sarah too!

He threw himself in Sam's outstretched arms, and the tough Splinter Cell wept in joy. He hugged his son-in-law in a warm embrace, then let him go to allow Grim to embrace him too. He wiped away his tears and asked happily:

_ So they're really okay? Sarah isn't too tired?

_ She's exhausted, Ben said with a trembling voice, but she 's okay. The babies are examined carefully, then they'll be put in incubators for a few weeks. It's going to be hard for Sarah, but tomorrow she should be able to get up and see them.

_ That's wonderful, Grim said, crying.

Sam put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her tightly. He was the happiest man on Earth, he was a grandfather! He asked Ben:

_ So, will you tell us their names now?

_ Just a little more patience, Sam, Ben said. We'll tell you when you meet them in a few minutes.

_ Really? And can we see Sarah?

_ Yes, she's in her bedroom already. Follow me.

Ben led them through long corridors and double doors, and finally reached the room with the number 26. He knocked and went in, Sam and Grim behind him. And Sam's heart leapt with joy when he saw his daughter, half-asleep on her bed, a small smile on her lips. Ben went to sit next to her and kissed her, then said softly:

_ Sam and Anna are there, my love.

_ Dad? Anna?

_ We're there, darling, Sam said, walking to her side and taking her hand. Congratulations, Sarah. Ben told us you've given birth to two beautiful babies.

_ Yes, she said, smiling and crying. But they aren't there. The doctors are examining them, but I won't see them just yet.

She broke into tears, and Ben hugged her tightly, caressing and kissing her, murmuring comforting words in her ear. Sam knew it must be very hard for her to be separated from her babies just after giving birth, but he knew it was for a short time. However for his daughter, their mother, it must be heart-breaking. He shot a distressed look at Grim, who calmly said:

_ Don't worry, Sarah, you'll see them in no time. You know how important is their health, and the doctors must take their time to check on them. But when you are with them, it'll be so wonderful you'll forget all about this moment.

_ I hope so, Anna, Sarah nodded, wiping her tears away.

The door opened after a soft knock, and two nurses entered, each pushing an incubator in front of her, followed by a smiling doctor. Sarah sat up with a grimace, eyes focused on her babies, and Ben helped her. Sam and Grim made way for the machines, and Sam saw with delight his grandchildren for the first time. The two of them, wearing cute pajamas, undershirts and bonnets, were sleeping soundly in the small spaces of the incubators, little oxygen tubulars helping them breathing and small electrodes monitoring their vitals.

The doctor addressed Sarah and Ben, and told them that the babies were okay but needed a little help breathing, as they were premature and their lungs were not fully formed. Some blood samples had been collected, and so far all was well. Ben and Sarah looked relieved, and the young mother opened the small windows on the sides of the incubators to take gently the small hands of her children. The doctor and the nurses left, and Ben beckoned at Sam and Grim to come closer. He said proudly, a hand on Sarah's back:

_ Sam, Anna, meet James Samuel and Mary Regan Woodridge.

Sam, emotion rising in his chest, dissolved into tears for the first time in his life. He looked at the two fragile lives in front of him, happiness and love expanding in his heart, and vowing silently to protect them and help them becoming good people. He felt Grim's arm around his waist and Sarah looked at him with love and joy, he was just happy to be there.

After ten minutes he saw exhaustion creeping back on Sarah's face, so he said quietly:

_ We'll leave you now, and I hope we'll still be around to visit tomorrow.

_ You have a mission? Ben asked them seriously.

_ Yes, Grim nodded, but right now we're still in Baltimore, and maybe for a few more days.

_ You'll phone us, Dad, won't you? Sarah asked him in dismay, and Sam nodded, his heart wrenching.

_ I will, honey. And if we can, we'll come tomorrow morning, I swear.

She nodded, and he kissed her on the forehead, shook Ben's hand, then sent a kiss to his grandchildren before leaving with Grim. While walking away he cursed inwardly the mission that had started at the wrong time, but fortunately he and Grim had been around to see the newborn babies, and that was wonderful. Grim took his hand and said:

_ They're so cute. James Samuel and Mary Regan. You must be proud, Sam.

_ I am, he said earnestly. You have no idea how much.

_ You'd be surprised, she said with a smile.

_ I love you, he said abruptly, stopping in his tracks and kissing her in the middle of a corridor.

Blushing, she kissed him back, and they hugged there, Sam ignoring the moved looks on the medical staff's faces passing by. He and Grim had grandchildren and a loving family, what better thing was there in the world?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

When Sam and Grim came back to the Paladin's control room, Briggs, Charlie and Kestrel were bent on the SMI, studying a map with data displayed. Briggs was saying:

_ … should stop this bastard before he sets fire to all the intel agencies.

Kestrel raised abruptly his head and smiled at Sam and Grim, asking softly:

_ So? Everyone okay?

_ Yes, Sam answered him with a broad grin, while Briggs and Charlie turned round to see them. Our grandchildren, James Samuel and Mary Regan, were born this afternoon and are all right. So is Sarah.

_ Congratulations, Briggs said, imitated by Kestrel and Charlie.

Sam noticed a small spark in Briggs' eyes, and wondered if his ops was thinking about starting a family of his own. But it was Kestrel's reaction that was bothering him, and he locked eyes with his other ops. But Kestrel looked serene, and Sam remembered that he had spoken with a chaplain. Obviously Kestrel felt better, and Sam rejoiced inwardly. Then Briggs asked him:

_ Will we be able to visit them soon?

_ I hope so, Sam said. Grim and I will return tomorrow morning if we can, and maybe you'll be able to go in the afternoon, I'll ask them.

_ Okay, Briggs said.

_ Now, Sam said with a grimace, we must go back to work.

The team gathered around the console and Sam asked Briggs:

_ You were talking about stopping a bastard before he could set fire to all the intel agencies, if I heard correctly?

_ You did, Sam, Briggs sighed. We've had proof that Blanchard is our middleman. He's the one who gave the intel to the German BND, they recorded the deal. Charlie hacked into their servers and extracted the video. No doubt is possible.

_ And we've learned that the Canadian CSIS and the Israeli Mossad have had leaks of their own, Charlie said grimly. All about Russian intel.

_ Someone wants to isolate Moscow on this, Kestrel said calmly, and make it appear as the only culprit.

_ A smokescreen, Grim said thoughtfully.

_ Exactly, Briggs said. And from what we've learned, the SVR isn't too happy about it. I think it won't be too hard to convince Voron to help us with this.

_ Still no news from Kossiak? Sam asked Kestrel.

The ops shook his head, checking his OPSAT.

_ It's one in the morning in Moscow, he said. I suppose we'll hear about him very soon.

_ So, do we know where is Blanchard now?

_ No, Briggs said, but Charlie was working on his faked papers. We have the images of the security cameras of the immigration desk in Berlin's airport.

_ I think I can work on the images to read the name and nationality on his passport, Charlie said.

_ Then do it, Sam nodded approvingly. As soon as we have these infos, we'll track him down.

Charlie went to his computer and started his work. Sam looked at Briggs and Kestrel and asked:

_ Have you got any ideas on our next moves?

The two ops nodded grimly, and Sam saw the news wouldn't be good. Then Kestrel said calmly:

_ We must wait before neutralizing Blanchard. He's our only link to whoever is hiring him, and the fact that he has accomplices in every major intelligence agency in the world is quite worrisome. We must have them tracked down and arrested simultaneously. But we must keep track on him without being detected.

_ Quite a challenge, Sam said darkly.

Kestrel's smartphone rang at that moment, and Sam saw it was connected to the SMI. Charlie rose and checked the signal, saying after a few seconds:

_ The line is safe.

Kestrel nodded and answered the call at last.

_ Yes?

_ If you look for perfection, you'll never be content, Kossiak said calmly in Russian.

_ Tolstoi, my favourite author, Kestrel replied. I have a book written by him in my bookcase, you're lucky. Anna Karenina is truly a masterpiece.

_ Hi, Michka. So the line is safe?

_ Yes, we can talk freely.

_ Thanks for telling me about the CIA, Kossiak said, sounding genuinely grateful. I don't know how they bugged my phone, though.

_ That I don't know, Kestrel said, but we need your help, Igor.

_ A trade of favours? Why not?

_ It's about the leaks of the intelligence agencies.

_ This situation is driving me mad, Michka, to tell you the truth. We Russians are the scapegoats, and the worst of it is that we don't know who's behind this. Valentina Ivanovna is furious, and Voron is helping her and the SVR as much as we can.

_ We have a trail, Kestrel said, but a little help would be welcome.

_ I can't promise you anything, Michka, but I'm listening.

_ Have you had leaks in the SVR too?

Kossiak took his time to answer, and for Kestrel it was already an answer.

_ Yes, his friend finally admitted. Some intel has been stolen three months ago and reached the Mossad. We still don't know who did it.

_ And the Mossad has had leaks too, Sam said thoughtfully. And some CIA intel reached the SVR.

_ It's like table tennis, Kestrel said, frowning.

_ You're right, Michka, Kossiak said. Hi, Sam Fisher. So who's behind it?

_ Hi, Igor Dmitrovitch, Sam said. Well, we have growing suspicions but no certainty, that's why we ask you for help.

_ Tell me.

_ We think Beijing is behind all that.

_ The Guoanbu? Kossiak asked, not sounding surprised. Well, that would make sense.

_ Why? Sam asked him.

_ We arrested two of their men two weeks ago in Vladivostok. They were trying to enter one of our bases there, but of course their agency denied them. Now they're in jail, but aside from being Chinese, we don't know anything about them. And what do _you_ have on them?

_ A French mercenary we think is working for them since several years, Maxime Blanchard.

_ Well, well, well. It's a very small world.

_ Igor? Kestrel asked him, obviously astonished by his friend's sarcastic voice.

_ You know of the guy, Michka, since your mission in Kharkiv with Ivan, Kossiak said, but Voron kept him under surveillance since then. And I faced him twice since he's been kicked out of the DGSE. He indeed works, unofficially of course, for the Guoanbu, which you call MSS. And he's a nasty piece of shit, I can tell you. He killed Konovalov last year, and it wasn't pretty.

_ Konovalov is dead? Kestrel asked, and Sam saw his dismay.

_ I'm sorry, Michka, Kossiak said grimly. I thought you knew.

_ No, Kestrel said with a muffled voice.

Sam saw Briggs put a hand on his friend's shoulder, and Kestrel nodded, quickly recovering. The Splinter Cell said:

_ We'll be tracking Blanchard, but we would appreciate if Voron could give us their intel on him and his accomplices. The sooner we neutralize him the better for all of us.

_ For that matter I can only agree with you, Sam Fisher, Kossiak said. I'll tell Nikonova to send his file to Charlie Cole.

_ Thanks, Igor Dmitrovitch, Sam told him.

_ And please keep me posted, Kossiak said. I'm calling you with my brand new phone number.

_ I'll memorize it, Igor, Kestrel said calmly. Bye.

_ До свидания. _(Goodbye)_

Kestrel hung up and turned to face Sam. His boss saw immediately that the news about this Konovalov were affecting him, so he said gently:

_ Could I ask you to make us dinner, Kestrel? Grim and I haven't had any lunch, and personally I'm starving.

_ Sure, Sam, Kestrel said, shooting him a grateful look before heading towards the kitchen.

Sam watched him exiting the control room, telling himself that he needed to talk to his ops, then turned towards the team, who was waiting for his orders.

_ Okay, he said aloud, we carry on the work. Grim, you'll work on Blanchard's links with China since his dismissal from the DGSE. Briggs, you'll dissect Voron's file on him as soon as we receive it. And Charlie, find the bastard's fake identity. I'll be in the kitchen with Kestrel.

_ Careful, Sam, Briggs warned him. He might be better now, but when he came back from his encounter with Father Bokariov, he was a wreck. He told us that he had recounted some of his past to the chaplain, and it had triggered so much pain and bad memories he needed some time to bury it all again.

_ I'll be careful, Sam said. Thanks, Briggs.

Sam walked to the kitchen and entered to find Kestrel making some fish pie, and he asked him gently:

_ What are you cooking for us today?

_ Salmon pirog, Kestrel said calmly.

Sam watched him putting the fish pieces in the cooking dish, then carefully covering it with the rest of the dough, and put the dish in the oven. Then Kestrel took out his apron and washed his hands, staying silent and poker-faced. Sam inhaled deeply, then asked him:

_ Are you all right?

_ I'm fine, Kestrel said rather drily.

_ Do you want to talk?

The ops sighed heavily and faced his boss, a serious expression on his face.

_ No, Sam. I know you're worried about me and my state of mind, but trust me, I'll be okay. I need more time, that's all. Seeing Father Bokariov was great but very painful, and I need to mull over it all before talking to you or the team. So please, don't push me.

_ It wasn't my intention, Sam said kindly, understanding his ops' request for time. You'll talk when you're ready, Kestrel.

_ Thanks. Dinner will be ready in an hour.

_ Wanna train on Krav Maga in the meantime?

_ That's a good idea, boss, Kestrel smiled at last.

The two of them made their way to the training room, and Sam taught his ops some special moves before sparring him during a free fight. Kestrel was obviously pulling his punches, but Sam didn't spare him and succeeded in making him fall on the mat once. After that Kestrel had his revenge by sweeping out Sam's legs, making him collapse heavily on the mat, and the Splinter Cell smiled wickedly. Things were becoming more interesting.

When he got up, he saw Briggs, Grim and Charlie entering the room, visibly waiting for dinner, but he stayed focused on Kestrel who was crouching low. Suddenly the ops attacked, and Sam turned his upper body just in time to avoid the high kick, and using the momentum of his movement to grab Kestrel's leg. But the ops had clearly anticipated it, and went to the floor pulling on his leg, destabilizing Sam who had to let go to avoid the fall. Then, still on the floor, Kestrel made a wide ark with his leg, catching Sam's ankles again, and lifted it high.

Sam felt his feet in the air, not touching the ground anymore, and he fell face-first. He cushioned his fall with his arms but, swift as a snake, Kestrel rolled on his side and grabbed his left arm, twisting it in a lock behind his back. Sam struggled for a few seconds, but he knew it was useless, so he slammed his right hand on the floor, indicating his surrender. Kestrel let go of his arm at once and helped him get on his feet again.

_ Very good, Kestrel, Sam said, panting slightly. I have nothing more to teach you.

_ You'll always have something to teach me, Sam, Kestrel said seriously, not at all winded. If not in Krav Maga, then it'll be in English, or diplomatic relations, or something else.

Sam shot him a surprised look, but as usual Kestrel meant what he had said. He clapped his ops on the shoulder then turned towards Briggs.

_ Your turn?

_ I'll pass, Briggs said with a grimace. I still have loads to learn in Krav Maga, personally, but I'm too hungry to do it now.

_ Then tomorrow I'll give you a lesson, Sam said. You can't let Kestrel have all the fun.

Briggs and Kestrel smiled, silently defying each other, then the team headed towards the kitchen. Sam wanted a good shower, but it would wait till the end of the dinner. Kestrel went to check on his meal while Charlie and Grim set the table, and soon the ops brought in the pirog, smelling and looking delicious.

As everybody tucked in, Sam was thinking about his grandchildren. He should've asked Ben for photos, but if they could go and see them the following day, he would snap some pictures with his smartphone. The rest of the team was talking about Blanchard, and Briggs was saying:

_ Maybe we should ask Kobin to help us a little bit more about him. He obviously knows the guy well, he must know some details that could greatly help us.

_ The less I see or hear Kobin, Kestrel muttered grimly, the better. I can't stand the son of a bitch.

_ He's not so bad, Charlie chimed in, and I like his sense of humor.

_ Tell that to Archer and I, Kestrel said angrily. He shot me, Charlie! He's the one responsible for all my suffering in Voron's clutches! Better for him to stay as far away from me as possible.

_ He's lucky to be useful, Briggs said with a soothing voice, visibly wanting to appease the growing tension between his friend and the young tech.

_ Kobin won't tell us anything more, Grim said darkly. We don't need him, and it's better that way.

_ You've always had a grudge against him, Grim! Charlie said quite angrily. But he saved our lives and helped us, even if he's an arms dealer!

_ I don't care! Grim shouted, obviously fed up with the tech. After all he did to Alpha and Kestrel and Sam, I...

_ What did you just say? Kestrel cut her with a growling voice. What did he do to Alpha?

Sam realized at once the seriousness of the situation. Grim obviously knew something nobody else knew around the table about Alpha and Kobin, and she was pursing her lips in anxiety, looking at Kestrel with dread. But the ops, looking like he would soon explode, stared at her with an imperious gaze, repeating calmly but with a dangerous edge in his voice:

_ Grim, what did Kobin do to Alpha?

_ He... he was the one who drove her to Timochenko, she confessed at last, putting her face in her hands, but too late for Sam not to see her falling tears. The fishermen who caught her in the Black Sea thought her dead, but she wasn't.

Sam shot an apprehensive look at his ops who looked mad. And sure enough, Kestrel rose and kicked back his chair against the wall so violently it shattered in tiny pieces. Then he stormed out of the room, and Sam heard the door of his cabin slamming open, then closing a few seconds later. Kestrel ran towards the cargo hold, and soon his footsteps faded in the night. Sam turned to the woman he loved, got up and took her in his arms. She sobbed in his T-shirt for a few seconds before starting to breathe deeply, and said:

_ I didn't want him to know about it. I've been careless.

_ He would've learned about it sooner or later, my love, Sam said, kissing her, oblivious to Briggs' and Charlie's embarrassed faces. Now it's done.

_ But what if he goes after Kobin? Grim said. What if he quits Fourth Echelon?

_ He won't, Sam said to her but also to himself. Like he said to me, he needs time. Let's give him some.

Grim just hugged him tightly, and while caressing her back, Sam exchanged a worried look with Briggs. He wondered where Kestrel had gone, and if he would come back.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Sam decided to give Kestrel some time to accept the news and relax, so he didn't call him on his phone, wanting to wait till the morning. But when Sam got up the following day, Kestrel was nowhere in the plane. Briggs noticed that he had left all his things behind except his OPSAT, smartphone, pistol and knife, but that didn't reassure the Splinter Cell.

Charlie went to check on the parking lot, and told them Kestrel's blue pickup wasn't there. So Sam tried to call his ops, but the phone was switched off. His OPSAT had been deactivated as well. More worried than ever, Sam feared Kestrel had gone to Malta to kill Kobin, so he ordered his team to check all the flights from Baltimore, Washington and the nearby airports. But after ten minutes coming with nothing, Sam saw Dr Collins entering the room, phone in his hand. The doc said:

_ Good morning, everyone. Sam, someone wants to talk to you.

Sam grabbed the phone the doc was holding out, and said, hope in his voice:

_ Fisher.

_ Good morning, Mr Fisher, a low but pleasant voice spoke calmly. It's an honour, though we've never met. Agent Kestrel told me a lot about you. I'm Father Bokariov.

_ It's an honour too, Father, Sam said respectfully, switching on the loudspeaker for his listening team.

Even if he himself wasn't much of a believer, he deeply respected every religion and their members. And the orthodox priest was obviously calling him to talk about Kestrel.

_ Have you seen Kestrel since yesterday evening, Father?

_ Yes, that's why I'm calling you. He phoned me yesterday evening, sounding devastated. We met in Bethesda, and we talked for a long time. He wanted to commit a murder, you see.

_ Yes, I can imagine, Sam said, swallowing hard and exchanging a concerned look with Grim.

_ I dissuaded him from doing it, but he told me that he needed time to forgive, so he left. He asked me to phone Dr Collins this morning and tell you he would be in your comfort place.

_ Our comfort place... Oh!

So Kestrel was in the chalet in Boise, but how did he get there? They found no trace of him aboard any plane from Washington.

_ Do you know how he would go there, Father?

_ He told me he had phoned a CIA agent who had a debt to be paid, an agent Tomlinson, who arranged an air transport for him in the evening.

_ Oh! Okay, thanks, Father.

_ I'll leave you now, Mr Fisher, Father Bokariov said lightly. But if I may, agent Kestrel needs you and your team more than ever. He told me he wanted to speak to all of you about his past, but he still hasn't found the strength.

_ Thanks for listening to him, Father, Sam said gratefully, his guts tightening in dismay.

_ I'll be away for a few weeks for a mission, but he has my phone. And you can phone me too if you need, Mr Fisher.

_ Thanks, Sam repeated.

_ Good day to you.

The line went dead, and Sam raised his head and looked at his team. They all looked concerned, and Grim was the first to voice everyone's question:

_ When do we take off?

_ In an hour and a half, Sam said. It's 8.24 am, we'll take off at 10. Grim, you and I will go and see Sarah and the babies right now, then we go and fetch Kestrel.

The team nodded in agreement, and he exited the plane, Grim following him. During the trip to the Johns Hopkins hospital, Grim stayed silent, a faraway look in her eyes, but finally she said:

_ It's all my fault Kestrel left. I should've kept cool in front of the team. But Charlie was annoying me so much!

_ No, my love, Sam shook his head. It's not your fault. Like I said already, Kestrel would have learned about it sooner or later. And better now than during our tracking mission. In fact, maybe we'll be able to stay a few days in the chalet and do the tracking from there, what do you think?

She thought about it, and said at last with a sigh:

_ Why not? And maybe Kestrel will feel better. I have the impression he loves being there.

_ It's true, Sam said. When I called him, he told me it wrenched him to leave the place.

_ Then it's all the better, then.

They fell silent again, but Sam knew it would be okay. Kestrel wouldn't have asked the nice chaplain to phone them if he had wanted to quit Fourth Echelon. He drove to the parking lot of the hospital, a little less crowded than the day before, and soon found a place. Then Grim and he, holding hands, made their way to Sarah's bedroom.

Grim knocked softly, and Sarah's small voice reached them:

_ Come in.

Frowning, Sam shot a concerned look at Grim, puzzled like him, and followed her in the room. Sitting on the bed, Sarah was holding her children's hands through the windows of the incubators, looking devastated. Sam's smile died, and he walked next to her, asking:

_ What's wrong, honey?

Sarah gently let go of the twins who uttered a little cry, then dissolved into tears and threw herself in Sam's arms. Panic rising in him, he forced himself to stay calm and asked her gently again:

_ We're there, honey. Tell us, what's wrong?

Sarah sobbed for a few minutes on his shoulder, and Sam saw Grim staring at her with a pained expression. Then his daughter breathed deeply and stammered through her tears:

_ They have leukaemia, Dad.

Sam felt his heart stopping painfully, his mind becoming numb in fear, but inhaled and asked:

_ What does that mean, honey? Is it fatal? Will they be okay?

Next to him Grim went to sit on a chair and put a hand on Sarah's back while Sam and his daughter sat down on the bed. The young woman said, recovering slowly:

_ It's a blood cancer, and it can be fatal for them if they're not cured quickly. They both need a bone marrow transplantation. Ben is making compatibility tests for Mary.

_ Why? Grim asked.

_ Ben's blood group is B-, and so is Mary. The doctors have to check that his bone marrow and Mary's one are compatible.

_ Aren't they logically compatible? Sam asked. He's her father.

_ No, it's not so simple, Sarah shook her head in dismay. Even if we're blood related, we're not necessarily compatible. I, for one, am not. I'm A+, and James is AB-. Only a person with an AB- blood group will be compatible with him. And we don't know of anyone.

Sam hugged her tightly as she dissolved into tears again. He wanted to yell at the unfairness of the situation, but he couldn't do anything except supporting his daughter, as he was O+. In her incubator, Mary started to cry, and Sarah swiftly rose and picked her up, minding the threads connecting her to her machines, and started singing softly. After a few seconds, the little baby fell asleep again, and Sarah asked Sam:

_ Do you want to hold her for a moment?

He nodded, and she gently put the baby in his big arms. Nestled against his chest and the crook of his arm, Mary Regan Woodridge looked like a small and fragile thing, but he felt pride, love and happiness rising in his whole body. Next to him, Grim was beaming, her eyes very bright. Then James started to cry too, and soon Grim was holding her grandson while Sarah prepared the feeding bottles. And while Sarah bottle-fed her son, Sam did the same with his granddaughter, while Grim snapped countless pictures.

Then the door opened and Ben went in, looking grim but relieved. He greeted Sam and Grim, kissed Sarah, and told them his bone marrow was compatible with Mary's one.

_ I'll have a bone marrow taking in a few days, and Mary will be transplanted right after that. So all we'll have to do after that is waiting for a donor with a bone marrow compatible with James' one, he said.

_ How much time will it take? Sam asked.

Ben made a sour face.

_ The main problem is the blood group. AB- is the rarest on the planet, so there are very few compatible donors. It's probable we'll have to wait for a foreign transplant, but it'll take weeks.

_ Weeks? Sarah asked in alarm. But we can't wait that long! The doctors told us...

_ I know, Ben said, looking on the verge of tears. But we don't have any choice. Maybe we'll be lucky.

Sam looked at his grandson in anguish. He couldn't stay idle and let him die, waiting in vain for a donor. He asked them:

_ Maybe we can help you with that matter.

_ What? Sarah asked, hope in his eyes. How?

_ Can you give us the medical file of James? Grim asked, nodding at Sam. We'll use our searching programs to find people with the same medical characteristics, and maybe we'll find someone who'll be compatible.

_ That would be wonderful, Sarah said with a trembling smile.

_ But not a word about it, Grim warned her. In theory, medical files are classified, we don't have the right to access them. However, I won't stay there and watch James' health deteriorate without doing anything to help him.

Sarah nodded, tears flooding her cheeks, and Ben hugged Grim tightly, eyes bright. He said:

_ I'll ask for the file right now.

_ Please, Sam nodded. We must leave soon.

_ Your mission? Sarah asked them, hoisting James on her shoulder to burp him as Sam was doing the same with Mary.

_ Yes, Sam said.

He didn't want to go into details about Kestrel, but Sarah knew they couldn't talk about their job. And ten minutes later, Ben came back with a file in his hand. He gave it to Grim and said:

_ All you need to find a donor for James.

_ Okay, she said. We'll start the search as soon as we go back to the plane.

Sarah wiped the mouth of James, then gave him to Grim who took the baby with pride and delight. Sam watched her eyes becoming bright and sparkling, and thought that becoming a grandmother was making her even more beautiful. Sarah took Grim's phone and snapped pictures while Ben did the same with his own phone, and Sam gazed proudly at his grandchildren. In his arms, Mary was dozing peacefully, and in Grim's ones James was opening his blue eyes and looking around him. He couldn't let his grandchildren suffer from blood cancer and would do all he could to save James.

Much too soon Grim told him they had to leave, so he gave back Mary to her mother as Grim was doing the same with James' father, and he kissed his daughter goodbye. He said:

_ I'll phone you as soon as I have news. We'll try and make it quick.

_ Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Anna, Sarah murmured.

_ Bye, Sam said as he and Grim exited the bedroom.

He walked briskly towards the black van, lost in his thoughts. Next to Grim was staying silent too, she knew like him James' life depended on their efficiency at finding a compatible donor. He drove much too fast to the Paladin, but it was 9.52 am when he parked the van in the hangar. He and Grim ran to the control room and they startled Charlie who was working there.

_ Whoa! he stammered, clutching his chest. A little warning, next time, please.

_ We must take off immediately, Sam said. Where is Briggs?

_ Phoning his girlfriend, Charlie said. She had something important to tell him, apparently.

Sam hoped it was good news, the bad ones were far too many to his taste. Grim sat in front of her computer without a word and set to work, James' file next to her. Sam asked Charlie:

_ Have you found Blanchard's fake ID?

_ Yes. It's...

_ Later, Sam cut him abruptly. Take-off first.

Charlie nodded and contacted the pilots while Sam went behind Grim, silently massaging her back as she was entering James' data in a comparison program. And as the pilot's voice warned about the imminent take-off, she punched the enter key, and the search started.

The team sat in buckled seats during the take-off, then got up and gathered around the SMI. And as if on cue, Briggs entered the control room, looking stunned. Sam asked him, a little worried:

_ Briggs, are you okay?

_ Yeah, the ops said in a daze. Well, I think so.

_ What's the matter?

Briggs raised his head and said with a toneless voice:

_ Molly is pregnant.

Sam knew it was excellent news, but for his ops it meant a world of worry and responsibility has fallen on his shoulders, so he said calmly:

_ That's wonderful, Briggs. You'll be a brilliant father.

_ Congratulations, Briggs, Grim said with a smile, Charlie echoing her.

_ Thanks, Briggs said, eyebrows furrowed. I'm delighted and terrified at the same time. Is that normal? he asked Sam.

_ It is, the Splinter Cell said softly as Grim and Charlie retreated a few steps to give them some privacy. In our job becoming a father is always complicated, but you'll manage, I don't doubt it. And if you want to have time to think about it with Molly, I'll give you the necessary time after this mission.

_ Thanks, Sam, Briggs nodded. It's just... I feel like an anvil has been dropped on my head.

_ When my late wife told me about her pregnancy, I felt like an eighteen-wheeler had crushed me, Sam confessed to his ops. But I can tell you that a child, however huge the responsibilities are, is the best thing that can happen to a man, Briggs.

Briggs looked comforted, and smiled to him.

_ Thanks, Sam. I'll talk about it with Molly as soon as we stop Blanchard and the MSS.

_ Right, Sam said. But first, let's find Kestrel.

During the four hour flight, Sam and Grim learned that Blanchard had a fake British passport under the pseudonym David Sanderson. And as he had entered Germany, now he could be anywhere within the European Schengen space without leaving any tracks.

_ Doesn't matter, Sam said calmly. We'll wait for him to leave Europe, then we'll track him down.

_ But maybe he'll steal some more intel in the meantime, Grim objected.

_ We can't help it, Sam shrugged. It's too early to raise the alarm or call the Interpol. We must have a battle plan settled and all his accomplices known before acting, and that'll take time.

_ Yes, Briggs said, and I hope the CIA will watch its butt in the meantime.

_ So do I, Sam said. We won't...

A small alarm cut him abruptly, and Grim exclaimed:

_ It's the search! A match has been found!

She ran to her computer, and Sam went behind her, feeling elated. Around them Briggs and Charlie looked puzzled, but were waiting patiently for the explanations. Grim typed a few command sequences, and soon the medical file of the potential donor appeared on the screen. And Sam just couldn't believe his eyes. That was so improbable and miraculous at the same time that he squeezed Grim's shoulders, wanting to shout happily and cry in relief.

On the screen before him, a Russian file, obviously forgotten by Terekhov's administration, with a single name on top: Mikhail Andreyevitch Loskov.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

_ So, Briggs asked at last, what is it about?

Sam inhaled deeply, then said with a barely controlled emotion:

_ Our grandchildren have a leukaemia, and only Mary can receive a bone marrow transplant from her father. James' blood group is AB-, so he needs a donor with the same group and specific medical characteristics to have a bone marrow compatible with his own. We launched a search, and it has just found a match.

_ I can't believe it, Grim said, turning towards Sam, her eyes very bright. But will he agree?

_ You know the potential donor? Charlie asked in bewilderment.

_ See for yourself, Sam said.

Briggs and Charlie bent over the computer, then Briggs exclaimed with an incredulous voice:

_ It's Kestrel!

_ Yes, Sam said happily. I just can't believe it either.

_ But Kestrel is angry with us, Charlie pointed out grimly. With you, Grim. How will you ask him such a thing?

Grim fell silent, biting her lips, and Sam felt awkward. It was true the timing was really bad for them, but he hoped Kestrel would be willing to save the life of a newborn and innocent baby. He said at last:

_ We'll ask him for forgiveness, then we'll tell him about it. I hope he won't refuse to save a baby.

But the team, like him, was fairly certain that it wouldn't be easy to ask for such a thing while facing an unforgiving man.

The plane landed in Boise at 2 pm, and the team piled up in a rented SUV for the chalet. Sam was driving, and he wondered how Kestrel would greet them. Not with laurel wreaths, he thought grimly. But maybe being in the chalet had been enough for him to calm down, he hoped.

He parked in front of the chalet half an hour later, next to a black SUV, obviously Kestrel's rented one. He climbed down and went into the hall, followed by the team, but only silence greeted them. A fire was roaring in the stove of the lounge, but Kestrel was nowhere to be seen. Sam poked his head in the kitchen and saw a cooking pot on a low fire. The table was set for four people, and he realized he was hungry.

He dropped his bag in the hall, took out his light vest, then went next to the huge cooking stove, lifting the lid of the pot. A delicious smell met his nostrils, and he recognized Kestrel's borscht. Grim went next to him and asked:

_ Is it for us? Where's Kestrel?

_ The table is set for four, Briggs said. Maybe he already had lunch.

_ But where is he? Charlie wondered.

_ We'll search the chalet after eating a little bit, Sam said.

The four of them hastily sat down and gulped down the borscht, and Sam felt uneasiness creeping up his dorsal spine. Kestrel's behaviour was very odd, and the fact that he had made lunch for them but wasn't showing up was highly relevant to Sam. His ops was up to something, and that meant trouble.

When they finished their meal, they cleared the table then searched thoroughly all the rooms, but no sign of Kestrel. Only his bedroom indicated that he had been there, as his keys, OPSAT and smartphone were lying on the nightstand. But he wasn't inside.

_ Maybe he's at the waterfall, Briggs said. He loves this spot.

_ Let's check, Sam said.

They all went outside and walked towards the nearby clearing, and this time Sam knew Kestrel was in the vicinity. He knew he was being watched, but he couldn't tell from where. Next to him Briggs, like him, was shooting looks around him, and Sam told him:

_ Can you feel it?

_ Yeah, Briggs said darkly. But now's not the time to play hide-and-seek. I wonder what he has in mind.

When they reached the clearing, things became instantly clearer for Sam when he saw four paintball guns lying on the ground next to the waterfall, and he shuddered. He stopped in his tracks, dismay tightening his guts, and put his hands over his face.

_ Sam? Grim asked him, worried. What's the matter? Why is there paintball guns over there?

_ I hope he's kidding, Briggs grumbled. Now's not the time for childish games, he's...

_ No, Briggs, Sam cut him, letting his hands fall. It's not a childish game. He's calling on us for a Game of Trust.

_ What's that? Charlie asked.

Sam saw Briggs looking stunned and Grim grimacing, but he explained as calmly as he could:

_ A Game of Trust is a tradition among the Russian special forces, including Voron. It's very serious and often deadly. When a member is in doubt about some of his comrades, he organizes a Game of Trust, to know if he still can trust them. It's a well-kept secret in Russia, I heard about it some thirty years ago, but I learned all about it only last year, when Kestrel told Briggs and me about it as a show of trust.

He swallowed, distressed at seeing that his ops was doubting his team's trust towards him, but went on nevertheless:

_ The offended person chooses the rules and weapons, and his opponent or opponents have to strike him or her to defend their honor. But if the offended strikes all his opponents first, then the trust is completely broken.

Briggs approached the guns and crouched, studying them.

_ Three paint charges per gun, he announced. And it's paintball guns and not pistols. Kestrel goes easy on us.

Charlie went to grab a gun, but Sam caught his arm, saying loudly:

_ Wait!

_ Why? asked the startled tech.

_ Because as soon as a gun is grabbed, the game starts, Briggs explained grimly. And we'll have one hour to strike Kestrel to prove to him he can still trust us. And look at that.

He pointed to a patch of dirt where two numbers had been written.

_ 20-1, Sam read. This means he'll stay within a radius of twenty meters from this point, and that we'll only need one shot to regain his trust.

_ What does this mean? Grim asked.

_ There are four guns with three charges, Briggs said. Twelve shots. But only one will do.

_ I can't shoot, Charlie protested, alarmed. Can you do it for me?

_ No, Sam shook his head dejectedly. Each one of us must face what he has done to lose Kestrel's trust, and that means taking our chances with the guns.

_ He's harsh, Briggs said, grumbling. I didn't do anything to him.

_ But you first distrusted Alpha, Sam reminded him. And for Russians, and Kestrel, it's a personal offence to distrust the family. And you know Kestrel has a keen memory.

Briggs looked crestfallen, but Sam breathed deeply. They had to regain Kestrel's trust, not only to keep his ops within Fourth Echelon, but also to prove to him they were worthy of his trust.

_ Sam? Grim asked in dismay. What will happen if we lose?

Sam stayed silent for a few seconds, but he knew the answer, and it would be a catastrophe. At last he said:

_ If he wins and hits all of us before we hit him, then he'll leave us. If it was a game with guns, he would have to kill us all.

_ But Sam... Grim started.

_ I know, he said harshly. James needs him, and we all need him. We trust him, that's why we'll show him he can still put his trust in us. We'll win, because losing is unthinkable. Do you hear me, Kestrel? he shouted around him. We'll win! You can trust us!

Sam looked around him, sensing his ops's stare but not seeing him. The thing was that Kestrel was an excellent ops, a ghost during the stealthy missions. Hitting him would be especially tough. But Sam was determined to win, he just couldn't lose. Too much was at stake.

He looked at his team, who had a determined expression on their faces. He told them:

_ One thing you must know. As soon as you hit him or he hits you, either he or you are out of the game. If we hit him, the game ends and all is well. If he hits you, you drop your gun and come back at the waterfall as it's the center of his circle. He will have only four charges, one for each of us. If he misses you, he won't be able to win, so stay sharp.

The team nodded, and Sam checked his OPSAT.

_ 3.15 pm. We have an hour to win. Are you ready?

They all nodded, then crouched, picking up a paintball gun. Sam grabbed his then swiftly ran towards the trees facing the waterfall, taking cover next to a large rock. He saw his team scattering in the woods, but out of the corner of his eye he saw a blurred figure taking aim from a low branch of a fir tree and firing. Charlie yelped as a large splash of paint expanded on his chest, and fell backwards. Sam groaned. One player down, and on the wrong side.

He quickly searched for movement in the fir tree, but Kestrel had already disappeared. Cursing inwardly, he moved, carefully surveying his surroundings as Charlie came back to the waterfall, looking devastated. Briggs was nowhere to be seen, but Grim was easily trackable in front of a large oak. Sam spotted movement behind her and shouted, but she had quick reflexes and turned on the spot, firing. The paint splattered a nearby fir tree, and again Kestrel vanished.

_ That's going to be hard, Sam whispered, but no way you're gonna win, Kestrel.

He decided to play offense instead of the defence Kestrel was expecting, and started to move fast but silently in the underwood. Twenty meters away from him, Grim was on alert, looking around and above her, but suddenly she cried. Sam saw her back was splattered with red paint, like Charlie, and she rose slowly, tears in her eyes.

Sam's fingers tightened around his paintball gun, and he almost yelled in anger, but mastered his nerves. He had to think like Kestrel to track him down and hit him. While he used the cover of the trees, he thought hard. Kestrel was feeling betrayed and lonely, he would attack like a solitary bird of prey. Like a kestrel, Sam realized. Kestrel had become one with his codesign! He had struck Charlie and Grim from above, so Sam had to climb to catch him.

Looking carefully around him, Sam put his paintball gun in his cargo pants then started climbing a thick fir tree, using the large branches to hoist him up and staying undercover. And when he reached a good spot, five meters above ground, he used some branches to camouflage himself and stayed perfectly still. He glanced at his OPSAT and read 3.42 pm. There was still time.

For about ten minutes nothing moved. Sam could see Charlie and Grim, covered in red paint, looking anxiously around them from the waterfall, but they couldn't see him. Then, at some distance, he heard Briggs shouting and four shots fired, then he saw a minute later Briggs emerging, looking sullen, red paint on his chest, at heart's level. Sam felt his guts tighten. He was the only one still in the game, and he couldn't miss his target.

But he realized something. Kestrel was so intent on his game that he was attacking his prey instead of waiting calmly in a corner. And that, for Sam, was his only chance. He had to remain invisible, and strike when Kestrel would look out for him. Becoming one with the shadows again.

Fifteen minutes passed by, and Sam hadn't made a move. He was waiting, senses sharpened and on alert, and only thinking about taking down his prey. It was no game, it was a battle to the death, and he had to be the winner. Then his patience paid off. He finally saw Kestrel appearing five meters away from him, carefully and silently advancing on an oak branch like an acrobat, and part of him felt proud at having an ops of such talent. But to keep him in his team he had to hit him, so he waited for the right moment. And when Kestrel turned his back on him to grab another branch, Sam shot.

Kestrel, hit squarely in the back, lost his balance and fell from the branch, but he caught the one underneath it and slowed down his fall. Sam, worried at having hurt his ops, quickly went down his tree and ran to the spot where Kestrel lay, yelling:

_ Kestrel? Are you okay?

Behind him he heard exclamations as his team ran in his direction, but he advanced and soon saw his ops sprawled on the ground, a large blue paint splash on his back. He knelt next to him and very carefully turned him on his back. Kestrel was still conscious, but had a large bruise on his left temple, and he was grimacing in pain. But when he saw Sam, he said calmly but weakly:

_ You caught me by surprise, Sam. I'm glad you won.

And he blacked out as Briggs, Grim and Charlie skidded to a halt next to them. Grim cried out:

_ Is he okay?

_ He fell from the tree when I hit him, Sam said, the worry he was feeling showing in his voice. I need to check his limbs before we carry him back to the chalet.

He very carefully took Kestrel's arms and legs, checking them, but all seemed to be in working order. Then he checked his neck, and again no broken bones or stiffness. But then he noticed his ops' right hand, and cursed under his breath. Three fingers were very obviously broken, and Kestrel was right-handed. But broken fingers were the lesser of two evils, compared to Kestrel leaving Fourth Echelon, so Sam felt reassured.

He stood up and said:

_ He' okay, except for his hand, but we can pick him up. Let's go back to the lounge.

_ We could have used the doc's services, Briggs grumbled as he and Sam were taking turns carrying Kestrel.

_ Maybe, Sam said, but it's too late. Don't worry, we'll strap his fingers with thin wooden sticks and spellotape, he'll feel no difference.

Briggs was carrying Kestrel when the team entered the chalet, and Sam led him to the lounge where the two of them put down the still unconscious ops on a large sofa. Grim went to the kitchen to fetch some ice, and Sam told Charlie to bring back the first-aid kit. Then he thought about Kestrel's ribcage and felt it. When he reached the right side, Kestrel emitted a muffled grunt of pain as Sam winced, feeling two broken ribs under his fingers.

Kestrel was waking up as the team gathered around him, Sam using short sticks as splints for his fingers, and soon asked:

_ How many broken ribs, Sam?

_ Two at least, his boss said sadly. Plus three fingers. I'm sorry, Kestrel.

The ops shook his head.

_ Don't be, really. I needed you to do the Game of Trust, such are the risks. And like I said, I'm glad you won.

_ Do you still trust us, then? Briggs asked him seriously.

_ More than ever, Kestrel said calmly. I'm sorry, but I needed that. I heard Sam telling you about the seriousness of this game, and he's right. It's very important in my former country's special forces' traditions, and for me. But from now on, the slate is clean between all of us.

_ So, have you forgiven me about Kobin? Grim asked tightly.

_ I have, Kestrel said, locking eyes with her. I saw your eyes when I hit you, Grim. You're forgiven.

She nodded, and Sam saw her eyes were very bright. He smiled at her, then turned his attention back to his ops. Briggs said, disgruntled:

_ You're like a ghost, mate. I've never heard or seen you approaching me till it was too late. And even then, you managed to dodge my shots, asshole.

Kestrel smirked.

_ Actually, one of your shots came very close to my left shoulder, it was just my luck a large branch was shielding it, or you'd have hit me.

Briggs looked a little better after that, but Kestrel concentrated on Sam.

_ As for you, Sam, you still have something to teach me, after all.

Sam wondered what he was talking about, and Kestrel explained after a few seconds:

_ I really never saw you, and when I heard your movement it was too late. You were totally invisible, even if you're not dressed in a tac suit. Would you teach me that technique, please?

Sam felt pride in his chest, after all he was not completely useless in spite of being nearly sixty. He said calmly:

_ It's not a technique, Kestrel. It's a state of being. You become one with the shadows. You become a shadow. It's not just blending in them. That requires work, but most of all the right state of mind. It took me years to reach that goal.

Kestrel nodded and winked at Briggs.

_ Looks like the boss will be busy with us for a few more years, мой друг. _(my friend)_

 ___ Yeah, Briggs said, grimacing. Lucky him. And lots of pain and hard work for us.

Sam snorted, hiding his smile.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Kestrel, although feeling his mind at peace at last and wearing his usual poker face, was groaning inwardly. His whole body was aching from his fall, and his left temple was throbbing very painfully. But he hid all of it as the whole team was looking at him, and took the ice pack Grim was holding out with a small smile.

_ Thanks, he said, putting it on his temple.

The cold immediately eased his pain, and he sighed in relief. He grabbed Sam's outstretched hand and sat up, but let out a grunt of pain from his aching ribcage. He reclined back on the sofa and said calmly:

_ It's been quite a long time since I played this game.

Around him the team sat on the sofas and armchairs, shooting him a surprised look. He knew the time had come for him to speak a little about his past, as Father Bokariov had advised him to do. And now that he was certain he could trust them, although in his heart he had never doubted it, he was ready to start. He knew it would take time to tell them everything, and he would suffer, but he needed to talk. Like a slow poison, his past was burning him from the inside, slowly killing him. He had to make it go out, he had to tell his team.

_ How much time? Sam asked, locking eyes with him.

Kestrel saw his boss had understood, and shot him a grateful look. Asking questions would help him talking, and Kestrel appreciated it.

_ Seven years since the last time. But in fact, I played it twice.

Kestrel paused, remembering the two games. Two painful experiences, but such was life.

_ Twice? Briggs asked, bewildered. Including today?

_ No, Kestrel shook his head. Today was the third. The first time was fifteen years ago.

_ Were you the defender? Sam asked.

_ The second time, yes. The first time I organized the game. Just like today, I wanted to be sure I could trust the defenders.

_ Who were they? Charlie asked timidly.

Kestrel smiled.

_ The Kossiak brothers.

_ What? Sam said, astonished. You played the Game of Trust with Kossiak and his brother?

_ Yes, Kestrel confirmed with a nod, and we've been close friends ever since. Ivan was my teammate since my arrival in Voron, but during our first mission, we were with Avilov and Igor Kossiak in Afghanistan. The mission went downhill from the start, and I almost got killed twice. The Kossiak twins were rookies like me, only Avilov was a seasoned ops, and he let us manage. Abandoned us, sort of, maybe to see our caliber, I don't know. Anyway, when we finally came back to Voron's hideout, I was wounded and furious. Avilov was my superior, I couldn't do anything against him. But the Kossiak brothers hadn't cared about me at all, and as Ivan was to be my teammate, I had to check on their abilities. So I organized a game, with paintball guns like today, and I lost. But we've been friends ever since, and never have I regretted my trust in them.

He stopped and smiled at the astonished team. He was happy to tell them that story for two reasons. First, he was revealing at last some of his past, and it would make him heal faster. And second, he wanted to prove them that even after a Game of Trust, he would still be their friend and trust them with no grudge harboured.

Sam was the first to smile, and Kestrel saw his green eyes twinkling. His boss was smart, he had understood the hidden message loud and clear. But soon the rest of the team smiled too, and Kestrel said quite unnecessarily:

_ I trust all of you like I trust Igor Kossiak. Like I said, the slate is clean.

_ What about the second time? Briggs asked curiously.

Kestrel's smile faded, and he hung his head. But he wanted to talk about it, even if that wound was still sore. He said calmly:

_ Seven years ago, I teamed up with a guy called Kuliash for a mission in China, as Ivan was on holidays. We were the backup team for Ieshevski and Remizov.

He raised his head and saw that his team remembered the guys that had harboured a grudge against him before he saved Ieshevski's life in Saint Petersburg last January. He went on:

_ The mission was a catastrophe. Badly prepared, I'd say, and we were left alone to our fate. Avilov's doing again.

Kestrel inhaled deeply, satisfied at having killed the guy who had died in excruciating pain and quite slowly.

_ In short, Kuliash died. I almost got captured by the Chinese guards of some local chief, but I managed to escape them by throwing a flashbang among the guys. Unfortunately, the grenade also hit Ieshevski and Remizov, and they got shot while being groggy. I killed the guards and dragged them to our truck, but they've always considered it was my fault they had been wounded and Kuliash died. For them the flashbang was aimed at them, and I wanted to leave them behind and just save my skin. They never listened to my explanations, and when they called on me for a Game of Trust, it was with real guns.

Kestrel paused, readjusting the ice pack on his temple, and went on grimly.

_ I'm still there to talk about it, so it means that I won, although they had been very intent on killing me. I shot them both in the arm, but even if the game implied trusting me again, they did but very reluctantly, and since then they had been harbouring a grudge against me. Avilov turned a blind eye on it and only told Stepankova to avoid making Ivan and me teaming up with them after that.

Silence was thick when he finished, but he didn't feel uncomfortable. The game with Ieshevski and Remizov belonged to the past, as they themselves had told Kestrel. Finally Sam said:

_ Now I understand why you didn't want the two of them to know about your presence in Saint Petersburg. But you saved Ieshevski's life, so the slate is really clean, now.

Kestrel simply nodded and sighed, but he felt a sharp pain in his chest and couldn't help a wince. He had more than two broken ribs, probably three or four, but he couldn't do anything about it except staying still and avoid sudden movements. Sam and Grim shot him a worried look, and he saw something else was bothering them. Maybe the timing was bad to be in Boise, he thought.

_ By the way, he added, I'm sorry to have brought you here. I wanted some secure place for the game, and it was the only one I could think of. I didn't want to ask Tomlinson for Langley's park, although the guy was almost crawling at my feet when he asked me for forgiveness and just about to give me anything I wanted.

The team smiled, but Sam and Grim had a rather forced one. Kestrel knew then something was clearly wrong, and he asked them:

_ What's the matter, Sam? Grim? Are you angry with me?

_ No, Kestrel, Sam confessed at last after exchanging a strange look with Grim. Not at all. In fact, we wanted to ask you a huge favor.

Kestrel frowned. Such caution and shyness were very unlike the Sam Fisher he knew and worked with, and next to him Grim broke into silent tears. Startled, the ops said as calmly as he could:

_ What can I do for you?

_ It's not for me, Kestrel, Sam said, small tears running on his cheeks. Not for Grim or any of us. It's...

In front of him Sam breathed deeply, trying to regain composure, and wiped his tears away. Kestrel waited patiently, but he felt dismay twisting his guts. It hurt to see his boss and his control director looking so desperate, and he would do all he could to help them, as they themselves had done for him.

_ Tell me, Kestrel said gently.

_ It's for James, Sam said at last. My grandson.

Kestrel felt dread rising in his chest. Sam's and Grim's grandchildren were newborn babies, what was happening? But Sam was obviously overwhelmed, and he put his face in his hands, sobbing. Grim was still crying too, so Briggs spoke softly:

_ The babies have leukaemia, mate. Mary will receive some bone marrow from her father, but James' blood group is AB-.

_ Like me, Kestrel realized.

_ Yes, Briggs nodded. To cure him, the doctors must transplant a compatible bone marrow very soon, but you know AB- is the rarest blood group in the world. So the chances were slim to find a compatible donor. But Sam and Grim launched a search, and your medical file from Russia showed up. A miracle. You seem to be compatible with James, mate.

Kestrel, stunned, looked at Sam and Grim who were breathing deeply and wiping their tears away, staring intently at him. If Briggs was right, he could save their grandson by accepting to give some bone marrow. Not a difficult thing, he thought, but the problem was elsewhere. He turned towards Briggs and asked him:

_ Did you see the date of my file?

_ No, Briggs said, frowning. Is it relevant?

_ Could be, Kestrel said grimly. The only medical file I can think of, aside from Voron's one, is the one from a blood donation I did during my period of conscription in the army. The thing is, I've been experimented on since, and have all the things Timochenko made on me altered some important characteristics?

He knew that question was a fair one. Alpha had died of cancer following the experiments, and maybe he himself had some hidden disease somewhere in his body. He didn't want to give a bad bone marrow to an innocent child. Opposite him, Sam and Grim looked calmer but were visibly thinking about his question. But Charlie said:

_ Only one way to know, Kestrel. Dr Collins can run some tests. He'll keep the secret on your medical file, and we'll soon know if your bone marrow is really safe for James.

_ You're right, Charlie, Briggs nodded. Kestrel? What do you say?

Kestrel looked intently at Sam and Grim who were waiting apprehensively for his answer, and set his mind. They were his family, a part of him, and they would see the trust he had in them. And he would do all he could to save Sarah's baby. He inhaled deeply and said:

_ I say: what are we waiting for?

He got up, wincing in pain, and started to walk to the door when a hand gently caught his arm. He turned and saw Sam, emotion swirling in his eyes, thanking him without words. Grim was also thanking him with a teary smile, and the team gathered in the hall. Kestrel said, a hand clutching his throbbing chest:

_ I must do the washing-up before we leave, and fetch my things in my bedroom, and...

_ And just shut up, mate, Briggs said, running up the stairs.

_ The washing-up will be done next time, Sam said, and if the china and cooking pot are knackered, then to hell with it! We'll buy other ones next time.

Charlie had disappeared in the kitchen and came back seconds later, saying:

_ I soaked the cooking pot, it should go moldy nicely.

Briggs thundered down the stairs, holding Kestrel's OPSAT and smartphone, and gave them to him.

_ Here you go, mate. I keep the keys of the car. Now we can leave.

Kestrel simply nodded and exited the chalet, walking slowly and cursing his aching ribcage. He carefully climbed on the shotgun seat of the SUV he had rented the night before, and was soon joined by Briggs. They drove in silence at first, but Kestrel saw his friend was preoccupied.

_ What's bothering you, мой друг? _(my friend)_

_ Molly is pregnant, Briggs said, his eyes still on the road. I told the team this morning.

_ You don't look so happy.

Briggs shot him a surprised look, but Kestrel held his gaze. He knew he should have said "Congratulations", but now wasn't the time. Briggs was clearly expecting something else. And like he thought, the ops confessed:

_ I'm happy, but I'm terrified, mate. So much questions are jostling in my head. How will I manage? Will I have to cease being a field ops? What about Molly's career? And the baby, will he or she be all right? What if he or she has cancer like James and Mary? How will I stand all this? What if...

_ Hey, there! Kestrel cut him. Stop! You're driving me and yourself crazy!

Briggs shot him a lost look, and Kestrel inhaled deeply. He said calmly and gently:

_ Listen to me, мой друг. A baby is a blessing in a man's life. Every other question is secondary. It'll all come naturally. There's no reason your baby should have cancer, and about your job and Molly's, you'll think about it together and manage.

_ Easy for you to say, Briggs grumbled, more worried than angry. I need certainties, and I know I won't have them yet.

_ You still don't realize how lucky you are, мой друг. I hope when your child is born and in your arms, you'll understand it.

Briggs looked at a loss for words, and glanced at Kestrel with a shameful expression on his face. But Kestrel looked away, through the window, and forced down his own tears. He would never have Briggs' luck, no babies to enlighten his life. At long last, he heard his friend murmuring:

_ I'm sorry. You're right, mate. I should concentrate on the present moment, and I'll try.

_ Then I can say congratulations, Kestrel said, meaning it.

They soon arrived at Boise airport and Briggs insisted on driving Kestrel to the Paladin's ramp before returning the car to the rental station. Kestrel hobbled into the plane, only wanting to lie down on his bed, and Sam and Charlie quickly caught up with him.

_ Can we help you? his boss asked in concern.

_ Yes, Kestrel said. Could you ask Dr Collins for the sling, please?

Charlie set off at once, and Kestrel put a hand on Sam's arm, feeling a growing pain in his right ankle. The Splinter Cell obviously noticed it too, because he asked:

_ Is your ankle sprained?

_ Probably, Kestrel said through gritted teeth.

They reached Kestrel's cabin, and the ops sat on it, waiting for the doc. Sam knelt at his feet and removed his boots. And when Kestrel glanced at his ankle, he immediately saw it was blue and swollen.

_ Wonderful, he muttered.

_ Yes, sprained ankle, Sam said, getting to his feet. Don't worry, if you can mend broken bones in two days, you should be fine the day after tomorrow.

_ I hope so.

A soft knock could be heard on the door, then the doc entered, followed by Charlie.

_ Good afternoon, agent Kestrel, Dr Collins said seriously. I wonder if one day I'll be able to have holidays without nursing you to health.

_ An excellent question, doc, Kestrel admitted.

_ So, tell me, the doc sighed. Broken ribs, broken fingers, swollen temple, check. Anything else?

_ Sprained ankle, Sam added, suppressing a smile.

_ And compatibility tests to be run, Kestrel said calmly.

_ What?

The doc rose from examining Kestrel's fingers, and the ops repeated calmly:

_ And compatibility tests to be run, for a bone marrow transplantation.

_ What are you...

_ I'll explain all about it, doc, Sam said. But now, can we take off and go back to Baltimore?

_ Yes, Dr Collins said, looking puzzled. It should take me half an hour with agent Kestrel, then I'll join you in the control room.

_ Good, Sam nodded. Kestrel, we'll leave you for now. Please rest.

_ Will do, Sam, Kestrel nodded, feeling his eyelids heavy from the game and the lack of sleep.

Sam and Charlie left his cabin, and he winced as the doc was feeling his ribcage.

_ Three broken ribs and one cracked, Dr Collins said. You'll put the sling on, agent Kestrel.

Kestrel helped the doc fixing the sling around his chest and keeping his right arm against it, knowing that it would ease the pain. Then the doc made him lie on his bed while he examined his temple and ankle.

_ Your head is okay, but the ankle needs rest, Dr Collins said calmly, bandaging it after putting some cold cream on it. So stay here in your bed until I come to see you tomorrow morning, agent Kestrel. Right? And no night strolls this time, understood?

_ Copy, doc, Kestrel said, half asleep already.

The doc, softened, grabbed his blanket from the desk and put it on him, and in no time Kestrel's mind drifted into a blissful sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

When she came back to the control room, Grim sighed heavily. She had the room to herself for a few minutes, so she allowed her weariness to show. Her mind was preoccupied by James's state, Kestrel's one, Sarah and Ben, Briggs, Sam, the Game of Trust, the intel leaks, Blanchard, China, the MSS. Thoughts were swirling so much in her head she felt dizzy. She felt tired and overwhelmed at the same time, so she wasn't surprised to see she was swaying a little on her feet.

She sat on a chair next to a desk, trying to sort out the priorities. The first was James's health, and it was closely linked to Kestrel's one. The second one was their mission, and the tracking down of Blanchard. Grim wondered dimly if they would have to fly to Europe, and started massaging her aching temples. Briggs' voice next to her made her jump, jarring her out of her deep thoughts.

_ Grim? Are you all right?

_ Yes, she said, I'm a little tired.

_ Yeah, Briggs nodded. It's been quite a long day.

_ Maybe I should cook some dinner, she started, and...

_ Don't bother, Briggs cut her gently. I saw wrapped sandwiches in the fridge, they'll do for tonight. We had lunch late, and Kestrel's borscht is heavy on the stomach.

_ You're right, she sighed as Sam and Charlie entered the room, looking exhausted.

Grim noticed they, including her, all had large splashes of red paint on them except Sam, and she felt proud at having such a talented man with them, even if he was not growing younger and had now more grey hair than black. Briggs asked Sam:

_ Will Kestrel be okay?

_ Yes, Sam said, even if he has a sprained ankle on top of everything. But he should be all right very soon.

Briggs nodded, and Grim asked:

_ Shall we get to work?

She had to ask, but she hoped Sam would tell them to rest. And sure enough, the man she loved shook his head.

_ No, not tonight. We'll eat a little bit, then we'll sleep. We all need rest.

All the team approved numbly, and Dr Collins entered the room as the pilots warned of the imminent take-off. All the team sat in buckled seats as the doc asked:

_ So what's the story of the bone marrow transplantation?

Grim explained softly and patiently the situation to the carefully listening doc as the plane gained height, so by the time they could get up, Dr Collins knew everything.

_ I understand, the doc said seriously. Our main concern is about the experiments agent Kestrel endured. But as far as I know, and believe me, I know his medical file almost by heart now, there should be no reason the transplant shouldn't happen. However, I'll run some compatibility tests, starting right now, so for tomorrow morning we should know.

_ Do you have all you need? Sam asked grimly. Blood sample, …?

_ Yes, the doc nodded. I still have some from his stay in Langley. Andrews will help me.

_Thanks a lot, doc, Grim said, hope in her heart.

_ You'll thank me tomorrow, Anna, he said seriously, if I give you good news.

She nodded, and the doc left for the infirmary. Sam rose to his feet and said:

_ Let's have a quick dinner, then we can go to sleep.

He led them to the dining cabin, and Briggs went to fetch the wrapped sandwiches. They all ate in silence, quickly, then left for their cabins. Sam looked so tired that she went with him in his cabin and helped him out of his clothes. He collapsed on his bed and in no time was snoring softly. She smiled to herself, watching him sleeping for a handful of seconds, before leaving on tiptoe and entering her own cabin.

While she undressed and put her pajamas, she thought about James and Mary, those cute little lives that were already threatened by a blood cancer. She hoped the bone marrow transplants from Ben and Kestrel would save them, and she couldn't wait for the morning to know about Kestrel's compatibility with the little baby boy. But as soon as her head touched the pillow, she drifted into sleep.

When the alarm clock woke her up at 7.30 am, Grim felt more rested but still preoccupied. She took a reinvigorating shower before going to the dining cabin. She was the first in there, and she was a little surprised Kestrel wasn't there yet, before remembering he was injured and probably still in his bed. She prepared the coffee and set the table, shooting a look outside the small windows. The Paladin was back in its Baltimore hangar, and from what she could see the weather outside was not good.

Soon Sam entered the room, looking haggard, and she asked him, concerned:

_ Are you all right?

_ Yes, he said, kissing her before sitting down. Bad dreams.

She nodded, understanding, and poured him a large mug of coffee. He thanked her as Briggs went in the dining cabin, greeting them. He too looked troubled, and Grim bit back her question. He must be concerned about Molly's pregnancy, she thought. Only Charlie, arriving seconds later, looked like he had a peaceful sleep. But a few minutes later, she heard a halting step in the corridor, and soon Kestrel appeared. His right arm was pressed against his chest in a large sling, but his left temple's bruise was already fading. But he looked in pain, and Grim heard Sam asking him, eyebrows knitted:

_ Hi, Kestrel! Your ankle not healed yet?

_ No, Kestrel said. Hi, everyone. No, it's not healed yet, and I fear it's not a simple sprain.

He drew out a chair and heavily sat on it, wincing. He went on:

_ The doc is preparing his X-ray machine. But if my ankle's broken it's bad news. I won't be able to walk around for a few days at best.

Grim surveyed him carefully, concerned. His state was not alarming, but if he couldn't walk, it would complicate things for the mission, but also for James. As if he had read his mind, Kestrel shot her a calm look and said:

_ But don't worry. I still can give some of my bone marrow. No need to walk for that matter.

_ Has the doc told you anything about it? Sam asked him, hope in his voice.

_ No, Kestrel said. He was waiting for a last result, but he should have received it by now.

_ Coffee, Kestrel? Charlie offered him. Bagels?

_ Just a coffee, thanks.

Grim looked at him in surprise, and she wasn't the only one. Never before had Kestrel refused to eat for breakfast, and it wasn't a good sign.

_ You're not hungry? Briggs asked him in bewilderment.

_ I am, Kestrel said sullenly, but my stomach is lurching so much I want to throw up every second.

_ What's happening to you, mate?

_ Looks like a minor gastroenteritis, the doc told me. Not contagious, he specified to an alarmed Charlie. But certainly annoying. It should leave me alone in the evening, I took the medicine the doc gave me, it'll pass.

_ So you won't be able to go and see James and Mary, Grim said sadly.

_ No, the ops said, looking disappointed. Maybe tomorrow, if we're still around.

She saw him sipping his coffee, obviously more affected by his state than he was letting on, and pursed her lips. But Dr Collins entered the dining cabin at that moment and took a seat at the table, next to Charlie.

_ Good morning. Agent Kestrel, we are ready when you are.

_ Almost ready, doc, Kestrel said between gulps of coffee.

_ And I have the results, the doc added. It's okay, the compatibility is very good. Not a perfect one, of course, but it'll do.

Grim felt relief flooding in her chest, easying her breathing. Sam looked like he was surfacing after a very deep dive, and around the table all the faces were smiling. The doc said:

_ I'm going to phone Johns Hopkins. The pediatrician who's in charge of James Woodridge is a friend of mine from the medical school. I'll give him the specifics, but agent Kestrel's file is classified, so it will complicate things, but nothing bothersome. We'll manage.

_ Can I tell my daughter? Sam asked him. When will the transplantation happen?

_ The parents will be most relieved, the doc approved. As for the transplantation, it's up to the surgeon who'll take agent Kestrel's bone marrow. But it won't happen before a few days at least, as he needs to get rid of the gastroenteritis first and the baby must be prepared for the transplant.

Sam nodded, smiling a little and shooting a grateful look at Kestrel, who smiled back to him.

_ Agent Kestrel?

_ Coming, doc, Kestrel said.

The ops got to his feet but stumbled and almost fell sideways. He caught himself on the table and cursed, wincing:

_ Чёрт! Проклята лодыжка! _(Shit! Damn ankle!)_

_ Here, mate, Briggs said gently, jumping to his feet and offering his shoulder to his teammate. Let me help you.

_ I won't say no, мой друг _(my friend)_ , Kestrel muttered dejectedly.

Briggs grabbed his free arm and put it on his shoulder, and the two of them exited the dining cabin, Kestrel hopping on one foot and Briggs helping him along. The doc followed them, and Grim exchanged a concerned look with Sam.

_ So what's the program? Charlie asked. You'll go to the hospital now, I assume. What about us?

_ You'll track Blanchard, Sam answered him calmly. And find his accomplices. And find his employers, see if it's indeed the Chinese MSS. And you also can track down the moles in all the foreign intel agencies, and...

_ Okay, I get the point, Charlie cut him softly. No sleep for a few days again.

_ The situation is not so desperate yet, Grim said with a small smile. We have a lot of work, that's all, and the timing is bad. But you'll manage. Briggs will help you, and maybe Kestrel if the doc lets him. And give work to Ollie and Jun, or they'll get bored.

_ Okay, Charlie sighed. Then I'll get started. Say hello to the little family for me.

_ Will do, Charlie, Sam nodded, getting to his feet.

Grim helped him clearing the table, then they went to the infirmary. The door was open, and they saw Kestrel on the bed, looking at the X-ray images the doc was showing him and Briggs. Sam asked:

_ So?

_ Broken ankle, Dr Collins announced. I didn't feel it yesterday as is was so swollen, but now it's obvious. No walking around for at least two days, agent Kestrel.

_ Then let me go to the control room, doc, Kestrel pleaded calmly. We have work to do, and I want to help. Sitting on a chair or lying on a bed will be the same for my ankle.

_ I can't say no, Dr Collins said, but don't put your foot on the floor. Keep it on a chair or stool, just keep it high.

Kestrel nodded and turned towards Sam and Grim.

_ Say hello for me, will you?

_ Sure, Sam said before Grim.

_ And for me, Briggs added, looking disappointed too.

_ We will, Briggs, Grim said with emotion.

_ Thanks, he said with a sigh. Come on, mate, we've got work to do and a bastard to find.

Kestrel was helped on his good foot by Briggs, and they slowly made their way to the door. Sam told them:

_ See you later.

Then Grim followed him out of the plane and into Fourth Echelon's black van. This time Sam let her drive, and she concentrated on the road, focusing on the good news. Next to her, Sam didn't say a word, but he grabbed her hand and stroked it, lost in his thoughts.

She stopped a few minutes at a mart and they bought clothes and teddy bears for the babies, and a large box of chocolate sweets for Sarah. Then they sped towards the hospital.

Soon she parked near the entrance of the Johns Hopkins hospital, and they walked to the birthing center. There they learned that Sarah's bedroom had been shifted, and she was now with the twin babies in neonatology. So they walked to the room 31 of the right floor, and soon Sam knocked on the door. They heard Ben's voice, and went in.

The bedroom was larger than the one of the birthing center, as it contained a bed for Sarah plus enough space for two incubators and their machines, a sink and a locker. The young parents were sitting on the bed, holding hands, hope and joy on their faces. The babies were fast asleep. Sam and Grim embraced the young couple and gave them the presents. Grim said apologetically:

_ We came back this morning, I'm sorry it's not quite what I wanted to bring, but...

_ It's wonderful, Anna, Sarah cut her gently, smiling broadly. Those clothes are so cute! And the teddy bears! They are enormous! And thanks for the sweets!

_ So, Sam asked her, how are you? And them?

_ I'm fine, his daughter answered as he and Grim sat on chairs next to the bed. Ben will have his bone marrow taken in two weeks, and Mary will start a chemotherapy course later this afternoon. It's necessary, as her own bone marrow must be destroyed to let Ben's one playing its role.

Grim stared at the young father, looking serious and determined. She knew it would be hard for them to see their child having a chemotherapy, but it was for her health, and if all went well, she would be completely cured. But Sarah asked with a trembling voice:

_ Do you have news about a donor for James?

_ Yes, Sam said, taking her hand. We found one.

_ Really? she rejoiced, tears in her eyes. Where? When will he give his marrow to James?

_ His file was in Russia, Sam explained gently, and our doc will contact James' pediatrician to set things in motion. But...

_ What? Ben asked in alarm. Is there a problem?

_ No, Sam shook his head. But you have to know something important.

He shot a questioning look at Grim and she nodded calmly, putting her hand on his arm. They had to know. Sam took a deep breath and said:

_ The potential donor is Kestrel.

Sarah and Ben looked thunderstruck. And Grim had to admit the odds were incredible. One on a million, it was unbelievable, but fate was working, and it was for the best. Sarah stammered:

_ Is it... Is it true? Kestrel...?

_ Yes, Grim confirmed. When I launched the search for a compatible donor, an old file of his from Russia matched. We couldn't believe our eyes. But our doc ran tests last night to check Kestrel's compatibility with James, and he told us it was a good one. Kestrel is AB- too, and has apparently the good antigens.

_ That's... that's wonderful! Sarah cried happily, throwing herself in Ben's arms.

The two of them broke into joyful tears, and Sam, smiling, kissed Grim. Then Ben asked them:

_ But why hasn't Kestrel come to tell us? And where's your team?

_ They're working on our mission, Sam said seriously. They say hello, by the way. And Kestrel has broken ribs and a broken ankle, he couldn't come. He sends his regards, though.

_ How did it happen? Sarah frowned.

_ My fault, Sam said apologetically. He fell from a tree.

_ But...

_ It's not really your fault, Sam, Grim countered him softly.

_ Yeah, but still...

_ Well, wish him well for us, will you? Sarah told them. And please tell him we're very grateful.

_ We will, Grim said. But now we must leave, lots of work.

She reluctantly rose, imitated by Sam, and Ben said:

_ I'm sorry, but you won't be able to visit till after the transplants. The babies must be in a sterile chamber, and no visitors are allowed.

_ Don't worry, Sam said. We understand. And maybe we'll have to leave soon, we still don't know.

_ Keep us posted, Dad, will you? Sarah asked anxiously. If Kestrel goes with you...

_ Yes, he will, Sam said, hugging her, but don't worry. The doctors will tell us the date, and we'll be there on time. I promise.

Sarah nodded, and Grim and Sam took the time to stroke the babies' small hands, Grim sending them silent kisses, then they left. The team was waiting for them.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

When Sam and Grim entered the control room, it was nearly lunch time, but the team was so busy working they didn't raise their heads. Sam saw Charlie intent on some hacking, Briggs was using the CIA database to check on some profiles, and Kestrel, right leg on a chair, was monitoring security cameras, following a man Sam recognized as Blanchard. But soon Briggs noticed them and asked:

_ How's the family?

_ They're fine, Sam said.

Kestrel turned and smiled, but quickly resumed his watching. Charlie didn't even stir. So Sam addressed Briggs:

_ Where are you?

_ We have some info, Briggs said, getting to his feet and walking to the SMI, where Sam and Grim joined him. Blanchard has been spotted in France, but has disappeared again. Kestrel is playing the recordings of the Charles de Gaulle airport security cameras in Paris to know where he has gone and how. Charlie is hacking into the MSS's servers, and will pillage every intel on Blanchard and the leaks as soon as he's in. As for me, I've studied Voron's file on Blanchard, and I'm following some mercs usually working with him, using the CIA's intel on them. I've learned quite a few interesting things.

_ Вот ты где! _(There you are!)_

_ Kestrel? Sam asked him. Where is he?

_ In Lyon, the ops answered. He took a TGV from Gare de Lyon in Paris, and fortunately for us there are a lot of surveillance cameras in Lyon. He's in a hotel near Place Bellecour, but I don't know under which name.

_ Tell me, Grim said, sitting next to him, ready to use her computer.

_ Hôtel des Célestins, Kestrel carefully articulated, and Sam was surprised by his good French accent.

_ Right, she said. Give me a minute.

_ He's alone, Kestrel said.

_ Why is he in Lyon? Sam wondered aloud. What is he doing in the country that wants to arrest him?

_ Lyon is hosting Interpol headquarters, Kestrel said grimly. And an important and secure lab containing fatal viruses like Ebola, Lassa or smallpox.

Silence followed his statement. Sam wondered if he would have to face a biological threat again, but Briggs said at last:

_ I don't think he's after viruses. That doesn't match with the guy, he's more into intel stealing and executing people. And what would be the link between the intel agencies and viruses?

_ Then maybe he's after the Interpol, Sam said. But why? Interpol's not an intelligence agency, as far as I know.

_ Or maybe he's just there to meet someone, Kestrel said calmly, searching something in Voron's database again.

_ What do you have in mind? Briggs asked him.

_ His teammate, Kestrel said, reading his old mission report in Kharkiv. Where is he now? Michel Perrin.

Briggs went to his computer and launched the search. And soon he cursed:

_ The son of a bitch! He's in the Interpol!

_ Here you go, Kestrel shrugged. Who better to hide his tracks than a friend in the Interpol?

_ Got it, Grim said. His pseudonym is Pierre Moulin, Belgian citizen. He paid with a credit card from a Belgian bank.

_ He must have powerful allies to have such means and papers, Sam thought aloud. Yes, he's definitely not alone on this.

_ I'm in! Charlie yelled in triumph. Now, let's see.

Sam went to the console and watched the data Charlie was sending them with Grim and Briggs, Kestrel turning towards the screen but staying on his chair. And soon...

_ All the intel that's been stolen is here, Grim said darkly. If we wanted proof that China was behind all this, now we have it.

_ And Blanchard? asked Sam.

_ Still nothing, Charlie said, but maybe he's somewhere in the payrolls or under a pseudonym. Need a little more time.

_ You'll have it, Sam said.

_ Are we sure the intel is in the MSS' servers thanks to Blanchard or their agents? Briggs asked. They couldn't have been framed, could they?

_ No, Charlie said. I've checked, the different pieces of intel have been entered in their servers at different dates, and by different people.

_ Okay, Grim said. So what now?

She looked at Sam, and the commander felt the responsibilities lying hard on his shoulders. They had to stop the leaks and arrest Blanchard very soon, he had to take the right decisions. He asked:

_ What time is it in France?

_ 7 pm, Grim answered him.

_ Can we know if Blanchard is still in his hotel room? Will he meet his teammate tonight?

_ No, Briggs answered him. Perrin is coming back from a vacation in Morocco tomorrow morning, the CIA is keeping an eye on him, I don't know why.

_ What?

_ Yeah. Weird, huh? I'd like to see who's tracking him in Langley. Maybe it's just a coincidence, but I fear some double-crossing.

_ The mole, Grim said.

_ Probably, Briggs nodded.

Sam took a deep breath and asked:

_ But why track Perrin? To neutralize Blanchard before we can interrogate him?

_ It's the most sensible answer, Briggs said. If Blanchard did all the dirty work, he knows quite a lot, and if he talks...

_ Then we must leave immediately, Sam said. Grim, tell the pilots to take off as soon as possible. Set course for Lyon, we must be there at dawn. Briggs, I want Perrin's file. We'll wait for his arrival at the airport, then follow him. Sooner or later he'll lead us to Blanchard.

_ But what about the CIA? Briggs asked as Grim left the room.

_ I won't tell them anything or confront them yet. I think you and me will recognize an agent on sight among French people. How is your French?

_ Not very good, I'm afraid.

_ Mine is quite good, Sam said. And as Kestrel can't walk, I'll take his place. Right, Kestrel?

He turned towards his ops, and saw he was bent forward, a hand over his mouth, face pale and clammy. He went next to him and asked him, a hand on his good shoulder:

_ Feel sick?

Kestrel only nodded, and Sam, helped by Briggs, supported him to the toilets, where they waited patiently for Kestrel's stomach to stop heaving. Then they carried him to his cabin, where Kestrel collapsed on his bed, and Sam told him gently:

_ Rest, Kestrel. We'll need you on your feet soon, but right now take your time to heal properly. Are you hungry?

_ No, Kestrel managed. Thanks. I think I'll just sleep now.

_ Okay, mate, Briggs nodded. Do you have your smartphone? Call us if you need us.

_ Okay.

Sam and Briggs left after helping Kestrel out of his only boot and covering him with his blanket, and made their way back to the control room. They sat down as the plane took off, then Sam told the team to have a short break for lunch. He cooked a hasty meal of rice and steaks, and they all ate in silence, eager to go back to work again.

And when the team gathered once more around the SMI, Sam said:

_ Right. This night for us, but tomorrow in France, we'll follow Perrin to Blanchard, then we'll capture him to be interrogated. But I want to be prepared, and know the questions we'll ask him. So Charlie, I want the list of the Chinese agents who handled the stolen intel at some point. Briggs, follow the mercenaries usually working with Blanchard and try and have them tracked by the CIA. And if you can, continue your work of finding the CIA mole. Grim, you'll be on the moles in the foreign agencies, use Charlie's list to sort out names, and Ollie and Jun will help you. I'll prep our encounter with Blanchard and find a spying device to record Blanchard's and Perrin's conversation.

The team nodded and set to work at once. Sam went to the cargo hold and inspected their gear. He needed something discreet but efficient, and soon found small mikes/trackers the size of a quartered post stamp, to be stuck on some flat surface. He thought about the place he would have to put them on, and decided that Perrin's suitcase was their best chance. They wouldn't have the time for a reconnaissance of the airport, and they needed a clear shot.

He went back to the control room and studied the plan of the Saint-Exupéry airport, thinking hard. Too late to fake being a baggage handler, and much too risky with CIA agents on the lookout. No, their best bet was him passing as a tourist and waiting for his case, and sticking the mic on Perrin's case pretending a baggage mistake.

Two hours later he had found the gate and terminal where Perrin would be arriving to, and Charlie's list was ready.

_ There are fifty-three names, Charlie said with a grimace. Most of them work in Beijing, but I have seventeen names of agents or possible moles. Grim is already working on some of them.

_ Some in the CIA? Sam asked.

_ If so, then they work there under false names. But I'm still digging.

_ Good work, Charlie. Briggs?

_ All Blanchard's merc friends are on a job in Iceland, the ops answered. Quite strange, as there are six of them.

_ The seven mercenaries? Charlie raised from his computer. You've got to be kidding!

_ Not even a little, Briggs said, frowning. These guys are very real and tracked by the CIA for arms dealing. Looks like our Langley friends set up a trap in Reykjavik for them. Only Blanchard is missing.

_ Who's in charge of this in the CIA? Sam asked, anger rising in his chest, feeling double-crossed.

Briggs searched, then said with a toneless voice:

_ Special agent Jonathan Dawson.

Sam, fury welling up in him, smashed his fist on the console and started pacing the room. Maybe Dawson was the mole, but it could be yet another coincidence, although these seem to be piling up quite a lot lately. However Dawson was low in the CIA hierarchy, how could a simple special agent be in charge of such an investigation? Sam came behind Briggs and asked him:

_ Who's Dawson reporting to?

_ Zeller, Briggs answered with a sour face, then the Activities Director Stephen Chong.

_ Too easy, Sam muttered. Dust in our eyes, I'd bet anything.

_ The smokescreen again, the ops nodded. Someone is intent on making us running after thin air.

_ Who in the CIA knows about our joint operation?

_ Few people. Zeller, and Chong of course, Tomlinson, Dawson, Daniels, and my friends Sanchez and Johnson.

_ Then the mole is logically one of them. What about your two friends?

_ They're stationed abroad and I trust them blindly, Sam.

_ Okay, so the culprit is one of the five in Langley.

At that moment, Sam's smartphone rang, and he saw Kestrel was calling him. He hastily ran to the ops' cabin, followed by Briggs, and knocked before entering. The ops looked a little better but had a furious expression on his face. He said before Sam could open his mouth to speak:

_ Sam, we have a major problem.

_ What's the matter?

Without a word, Kestrel handed out his wallet with his free arm, and Sam took it. Kestrel gestured at him to open it, and Sam noticed a very small device concealed in the notes' pocket. A beacon, he realized with dread. Next to him, Briggs gasped and asked:

_ When...?

_ You gave it back to me when we came back from Boise, Kestrel said grimly. Luckily the CIA doesn't know about the chalet, but they're following us. But is it just a tracker?

Sam cautiously removed the device, the size of half a microchip, and examined it carefully. He said:

_ I think so, but I'll ask Charlie to dissect it right away.

_ Do you think they'll know we're heading to France? Briggs asked him.

_ Probably, Sam said. Our flight plan leaves little doubt.

_ At any rate, Kestrel said calmly, now we know for sure the mole is in Zeller's team.

_ Yeah, Sam said, anger boiling in his veins. When I catch that bastard...

_ You'll leave some of him or her to me, Briggs said with a furious expression on his usually calm features.

Sam saw the cold determination in his ops' eyes, and nodded. For Briggs, recruited out of the CIA, it was a personal insult to be double-crossed by his former agency.

_ I sure will, Briggs. But if we have to watch our backs for the CIA traitors, then I don't like the sound of tracking Perrin tomorrow in the airport. We'll be easy targets.

_ How will you do? Kestrel asked, falling back on his bed with a wince.

_ We'll put a small mic/tracker on Perrin's suitcase. I'll blend in as a tourist.

Kestrel slowly shook his head, smirking.

_ Your chances to pass yourself off as a tourist are nil, Sam. Your entire body screams "professional", and surely the CIA guys will be on the lookout for you. The legendary Sam Fisher.

_ Well, Briggs is ex-CIA and you're a wreck, Sam huffed, a little pissed off. You have a better idea?

_ A very bad one, Kestrel said with a large grin. But it could actually work.

When he was done, Sam had his mouth hanging open, and next to him Briggs looked halfway between a snort of disdain and a wicked grin. But Kestrel's idea, though far-fetched, had its merits, and Sam thought about it. And the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. He grinned too, and said:

_ You're a wicked and mischievous son of a bitch, Loskov. But I like your idea.

_ Thought you would, Kestrel winked. But now, I'll have some sleep. Need to rest for my grand performance.

_ You'd better, Briggs smiled. I can't wait to see you with a white beard, Mr Freeze.

_ Santa Claus will do, Kestrel said, poker-faced but his eyes twinkling. I'll leave you the details, and don't forget to ask Jun to take care of my haircut.

Sam snorted in laughter, then came back to the control room with Briggs. He went to see Jun, the nice analyst who was also their barber, and told him about Kestrel's new haircut. Jun arched his eyebrows but didn't comment, and went to Kestrel's cabin straight away. Then Sam called Grim and Charlie, and explained the plan to them.

Charlie burst out laughing, soon followed by Briggs and Sam, while Grim was more circumspect and thought about all the glitches that could happen. But Sam saw she soon warmed up to the idea, and even smiled a little. And Sam thought about Guignol, the little puppet created in Lyon about a century ago, chasing his enemies with a stick, and thought that the CIA would soon hear about it.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Kestrel woke up at 11 pm, but in France it was already 5 am. He called Dr Collins who had very reluctantly agreed to the plan, and the doc, grumbling, removed his sling and finger splints and thorougly checked his ribs, fingers and right ankle. He heaved a sigh and said grimly:

_ The ribs are almost mended, so are your fingers. But your ankle isn't fully mended yet. However you'll be able to walk slowly with a cane.

_ That's good, Kestrel smiled, since it's exactly what I need to do.

_ Yeah, the doc said, surveying him with a wry smile. You look twenty years older than you are only with the dying and new style of your hair and beard, agent Kestrel. The cane should add ten more, so you'll be a nice grandfather hobbling around.

_ That's the goal, Kestrel said. Do you have a cane for me?

_ Yes, the doc nodded. Andrews is searching for it.

As if on cue, the male nurse knocked on the door and went in, holding a wooden cane. Kestrel thanked him and grabbed it with his right hand, then hoisted himself up. His ankle was throbbing dully, like his ribcage, but he would be able to walk. He thanked the doc and said:

_ When I'm back, I'd like to have a word about my appetite, doc.

_ It's huge, I suppose? the doc asked, hardly surprised.

_ Yes. And I have to admit it concerns me a little.

_ No need to worry, agent Kestrel. You have supernatural strength and speed, and very keen senses, but to maintain this wonderful body in working order, you have greater needs, that's all. So eat whichever quantity of food you want, you need it.

_ Thanks, doc.

_ My pleasure. And please mind that ankle.

_ Will do.

Smiling slightly and feeling better, Kestrel slowly made his way to the control room, but made a detour to the bathroom first. He had a quick shower, carefully avoiding to wet his hair and beard, and dressed up in pantsuit, dress shirt and casual jacket with loafers. Then he checked his reflection and almost startled himself.

The grey-white hair and beard truly aged him a lot, but Jun had done a little trick with them, putting some special product to make them thicker and longer. And since Sarah's and Ben's wedding he hadn't had his hair cut, so now he had a flowing mane of white hair with a thick beard. He smiled a little at his reflection, seeing what he would look like thirty years later, and it didn't depress him too much.

Then he hobbled to the control room, and the team greeted him with wide eyes and even wider grins.

_ Santa Claus indeed! Briggs whistled. Only the red suit and the potbelly left, and you'll be perfect!

_ Holy shit! Charlie swore. I can hardly recognize you, Kestrel!

_ Same, Sam said, obviously impressed.

Grim smiled at Kestrel, and he went to the console, forcing down his wince. He sat down on a nearby chair, sighing heavily, and said:

_ It won't be too hard for me to pass as a grandfather. I can hardly stay up.

_ That's perfect, Sam told him. Your hobbling pace is so genuine it won't draw attention. And take your time, we're not in a hurry. Briggs and I'll watch you from afar, and keep the CIA agents away from you.

_ How?

_ Sleeping darts, Briggs smiled wickedly. I love those.

_ Okay, Kestrel nodded. So, what's my new identity?

_ Allen Mertens, 64, American from Oklahoma. You're on a peaceful vacation after a brilliant career as a Russian teacher.

_ Keep it simple, Kestrel smiled. That'll do.

_ I certainly hope so, Sam nodded. So you'll approach Perrin and ask him some directions inside the airport, and stick the mic on him or his suitcase.

_ Okay. And what about the CIA beacon?

_ It was only a beacon, Charlie answered, but I deactivated and destroyed it.

_ Right, Sam said. Grim rented a car, we'll drive you to the terminal, since it's quite at a distance from here. Everybody ready?

Kestrel and the team around him nodded, and he rose, leaning heavily on his walking stick. He limped to the cargo hold, and followed Sam and Briggs in the car. Briggs drove them to the terminal 2, and Kestrel carefully climbed out of the car. Sam and Briggs would follow him at some distance, but they had time as Kestrel's pace was depressingly slow. Brace yourself, мой друг _(my friend)_ , Kestrel told himself silently, maybe you'll be exactly like that in thirty years.

He paused at a bench, trying to ignore the pain in his ankle and the throbbing in his ribcage. Only his fingers seemed to be completely mended, and it was lucky since he was holding his cane with his right hand. He looked around him, admiring the light and gracious lines of the building, and the people bustling around. He spotted Sam and Briggs, set at some distance one from the other, and Sam quietly nodded at him. But he also spotted familiar features, and concern rose in his guts. He murmured through his implants:

_ Sam? Briggs?

_ Here, Kestrel.

_ Near the bakery Paul, last round table.

_ The two guys? Briggs asked, standing next to an Air France desk.

_ Voron ops, Kestrel said. Ivkin and Kniazev.

_ Shit, Sam said, carefully looking from the arrival board to the two men. What's Kossiak playing at? I told him we were after Blanchard!

_ Kossiak's schedule isn't ours, Kestrel muttered grimly. Something's going on, and on this matter Voron and us aren't pals.

_ Maybe it's for the better, Sam said after a few seconds. Perrin will expect some surveillance if Blanchard told him about the leaks, and Voron is the ideal scapegoat. Next to them you'll be completely unnoticed.

_ But what if they recognize me?

_ Do they know you really well?

_ No, I can't say that, Kestrel admitted. We worked a couple of times together, but I didn't hang out with them.

_ Then it should be all right, Sam said. We hardly recognized you, although we see you every day.

Kestrel nodded, then slowly rose to his feet, heading towards the baggage claim. Perrin's plane had just landed, so the man should appear in the next fifteen minutes to reclaim his suitcase. Kestrel noticed his two former colleagues getting to their feet and casually walking towards the same gathering spot, and smiled inwardly. But he looked around him for the real threats, the CIA guys. And speaking of the devil...

_ Briggs, he whispered softly, next to the huge bay window on your side, three meters from the bar.

_ I see him. He's in the shadows, poor thing.

Kestrel smiled a little. He didn't turn his gaze, but he knew Briggs would make a nice sandman. And twenty seconds later, as Kestrel sat heavily again on a bench, he heard:

_ Done. He's counting sheep.

_ And I got one, Sam's voice resonated in his ear. The nice young lady, Daniels, I think. She's resting in the men's toilets. Any sign of other friends?

Kestrel looked around him, like an old man with nothing else to do to pass the time, and said:

_ Aside from our Russian friends, no one that I can see.

_ The passengers are arriving, Briggs said. Stay sharp.

_ What if our Voron friends act now? Kestrel muttered, concerned.

_ I don't think they will attack Perrin, Sam said. Like us, it's Blanchard they want. And I hope Perrin will give them the slip, as a former DGSE agent.

_ We'll soon see, Briggs said. Here he comes.

Kestrel rose two seconds before Perrin's arrival through the gate, so it wasn't a suspect movement. He began walking towards the carousel that had started to rotate, bringing in the baggage, planning to meet Perrin just next to it. But fate had curious ways, and Kestrel would later think he had had the luck of his life.

As he hobbled towards Perrin, he saw the Voron ops frowning at him and starting to converge towards him, but at that instant Perrin grabbed his suitcase and turned abruptly. The large suitcase bumped into Kestrel's cane which gave way, throwing the ops off balance, and he heavily fell face-first on the floor. His face collided with the side of the carousel, and he felt his eyebrow splitting open. In a blur, he managed to stick the mic on the underside of the suitcase before Perrin crouched next to him, asking:

_ Monsieur, vous allez bien? _(Sir, are you okay?)_

_ I'm quite all right, Kestrel managed through his pain with a very obvious American accent.

Kestrel raised his head, and Perrin, clearly very embarrassed, helped him on his feet with another passenger, and said in English:

_ I'm really sorry, sir. I think there's a first aid room around here, somewhere...

_ Don't worry, I'll manage, Kestrel said, taking his cane from a nearby sympathetic passenger. It's nothing.

Kestrel smiled a little at him then hobbled away, pressing a handkerchief to his eyebrow, towards the first aid room, as if he was only eager to be nursed. He had done the job, and startled the Voron ops whom he saw were hesitating. The commotion had drawn attention on Perrin, the brutal passenger who had made a poor old American fellow falling and injured, and it wasn't good for the stalking men. As Kestrel sat down another time, real pain surging from his ankle and ribcage through all his body, he heard Grim in his ears:

_ The mic is on Perrin, we can follow him well enough. He's climbing aboard a taxi.

_ Good job, Kestrel, Sam said. But I hope your fall was a comedy and you're okay.

_ Wasn't, Sam, Kestrel murmured through gritted teeth. I really fell, and Dr Collins is going to kill me.

_ Oh! Sam's voice changed from satisfaction to worry. We'll pick you up in a few minutes.

_ What about our friends?

_ Tailing Perrin, Briggs said, but the French saw them. I assume they'll be lost somewhere in the _vieux Lyon_.

_ Good, Kestrel said, wincing. I'll head towards the nearest parking exit.

_ On our way, Sam said.

Kestrel hoisted himself up again, still pressing the bloody handkerchief against his eyebrow, and very slowly made his way to the sliding doors. Some helping airport personnel came to see him, but he told them his brother and nephew were coming to fetch him, so they only accompanied him to the doors and eased him on a bench. Two minutes later, Briggs parked right in front of him, and Sam climbed down the car and helped him on the shotgun seat. Kestrel sat with a groan, and soon they were speeding towards the Paladin.

_ Here, Sam said, holding out a fresh handkerchief to his ops.

_ Thanks, Kestrel said, pocketing the soaked one and pressing the new to his still bleeding eyebrow. Well, I really gave of myself for that one.

_ That's certain, mate, Briggs said, shooting him a concerned look. How's the ankle and the ribcage?

_ I try not to think about them.

_ Okay, real bad, then.

_ Dr Collins will gut me, Kestrel murmured through a blinding pain in his forehead.

_ I've got your back, Sam told him, quite concerned. You did well, Perrin will never think twice about you being a spy.

Briggs stopped the car at the base of the ramp, and Sam climbed down to help Kestrel out. The ops truly felt as if he were seventy years old, only the pain was more and more vivid. He noticed that Briggs was helping him as well, and it was all the better since he couldn't put his right foot on the ground anymore.

The three of them headed straight for the infirmary, and when Briggs pushed the door open, Kestrel heard Dr Collins grumbling:

_ Well, if that wasn't expected.

Sam and Briggs carried him onto the bed, and he lay back with a groan. Dr Collins looked after his open eyebrow straight away as Sam was saying:

_ We'll be off, we need to track Perrin. Thanks for everything, Kestrel.

_ Sam, wait!

Kestrel stared intently at his boss and his teammate, fighting against the blinding lights in his eyes. He knew the Voron ops would be around, and this time they were not their friends.

_ Ivkin and Kniazev, he said calmly in spite of his aching ribcage. They're both left-handed and usually have P228 pistols. Their usual backup team is Poliakov and Kandinski, both right-handed. Kandinski favours his KaBar during missions and loves flashbangs, and Poliakov is a good gunslinger with his PSS.

Sam looked at him with a neutral expression on, then said with a small smile.

_ Thanks, Kestrel. That'll probably help us a lot. Now rest, we must go.

Kestrel nodded and Sam and Briggs hurriedly left the room. Then he turned his gaze towards Dr Collins next to him, busy sewing his eyebrow.

_ So, the doc sighed. How did it happen?

_ You probably won't believe me, doc, Kestrel said with a huge sigh too, blinking hard.

_ Try me.

_ Our target bumped his suitcase into my cane, and I fell. Collided with a baggage carousel. Not planned.

_ That I believe, the doc said, obviously aware of the discomfort in his eyes. What's happening with your eyes?

_ The lights are blinding me.

_ Then shut your eyes, and wait for a minute.

Kestrel obeyed, and soon his eyes felt normal again.

_ That's better, he murmured. Can I open them, now?

_ Not yet. Keep them closed for a few more minutes, or you'll have a severe migraine.

_ Okay.

Kestrel winced as the doc felt his ribcage and ankle, and he heard the X-ray machine over him. After some time, the machine was switched off, and the doc said:

_ You'll be back in the sling, agent Kestrel. Two of your ribs are broken again, and you have three more cracked. But your ankle is worrying me. This time, I don't think you'll be able to mend without help.

_ What does that mean? Kestrel asked, a little worried.

_ It means that you'll have a nice siesta with us and surgery. Andrews, prep the anesthesia.

_ How much time, doc?

_ For the surgery?

_ No. After that.

The doc fell silent for a few seconds, obviously thinking about his answer. At last Kestrel heard him:

_ I'd say three days, agent Kestrel, in the case you do not go back on a mission like today. But you won't be able to anyway, since I'll put your ankle in a cast.

_ It won't be necessary, Kestrel shook his head. I'll behave, you have my word. A splint will be enough, I promise.

He heard the doc blowing hard through his nose, then saying reluctantly:

_ I have your word, agent Kestrel. Okay for the splint. But now, let me do my job, and please don't wake up in the middle of the surgery like last time!

_ Drug me enough and I'll sleep right through it, Kestrel said, feeling a smile on his lips.

_ Such is my intention, agent Kestrel. Andrews?

Kestrel felt the male nurse inserting a catheter in the crook of his elbow, and heard him asking:

_ Agent Kestrel, please count to ten.

Kestrel's head started to spin as the cold liquid went into his vein, and he said, more and more weakly:

_ One... Two... Three... Four... Five...

He never said six, and his conscience flipped over in a calm oblivion.

* * *

Thanks for reading! There will be no new chapter tomorrow, I'll try and have it ready on Monday! But please take the time to write me a review, tell me what you think about this story!


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Sam was tightly holding the doorhandle as Briggs made his way through the nightmarish traffic. Cars were swerving and shooting out of nowhere, drivers were honking and gesturing frantically, insults were flying in the air. Lyon is a beautiful city but crazy while in a car, Sam thought. They made their way along the river Rhône, Sam following the dot representing Perrin on his OPSAT, guiding Briggs.

_ Turn left! he said suddenly.

Briggs yanked hard on the wheel, and a chorus of honking sounds surrounded them. They crossed a bridge and shot in a large avenue, and Sam said:

_ He's probably trying to give Voron the slip. Grim, do you have him with the drone?

_ Can't use the drone, Sam, Charlie answered. The nuclear power plant of Bugey and the oil refineries of Feyzin are too close, we'd risk being arrested as terrorists. The French are a little touchy about terrorist attacks since last year, and not our best supporters.

_ A satellite view?

_ We're on it, Grim said seriously. Give me a few minutes.

_ No angry call from the CIA? Briggs asked through clenched teeth, frowning in concentration.

_ Not yet.

_ Right! Charlie exclaimed. I have a satellite on him! And a car is following his cab, probably the Russkies.

_ We can't risk being spotted too, Sam said. Where is he heading to?

_ Due north, Grim answered. Looks like he wants to reach the A6 motorway.

_ He lost them! Charlie yelled in triumph. The car is blocked behind a garbage truck, the Russkies are furious!

_ Grim, get us out of this hell, Sam said as Briggs swerved to avoid yet another collision, brushing past the wing of a big Mercedes by an inch.

_ You're in rue Berthet, Grim said. Go straight on, then in the roundabout take the left exit, rue Marietton. Follow it till you see the A6 signs, and go on the motorway towards Paris.

_ He's on the motorway? Briggs asked in surprise.

_ Yes, and the cab's driving fast, Charlie said. You'll have to floor the accelerator, Briggs.

_ What's the speed limit?

_ 130 kph, Charlie answered. But France is said to have the best road network in Europe, and their motorways are a jewel. You'll see that a lot of cars dash at more than 160 kph, or 100 mph.

_ I'll try to avoid getting us killed, Briggs said grimly, reaching the porte Valvert, and going up the access ramp to the motorway.

They shot on the motorway, where the traffic was even more clogged, and Briggs decided to drive on the emergency lane, getting a symphony of angry horns. Soon they reached the outskirts of Lyon, and Briggs was quite astonished to stop at a tollbooth, taking a little ticket. But he drove on, giving the thing to Sam with a disgruntled sigh, and asked:

_ Where is he?

_ Ten kilometers ahead of us, Sam said.

_ He's approaching Mâcon, Grim said in Sam's ears. And he's exiting the motorway. There's another tollbooth there, and you'll have to pay.

_ French are crazy, Briggs muttered. You have to pay to drive.

_ Yes, but the roads are well-kept and secure, Sam countered absent-mindedly, still following the dot on his OPSAT. Grim, still on our target?

_ He's heading downtown, fortunately it's not a very big town. We should be able to keep him in sight.

_ No news of Kestrel's pals?

_ None. When I last checked they were still in Lyon.

_ Good. And how's Kestrel, by the way?

_ He's having surgery, Charlie answered. For his ankle.

_ Shit.

_ He'll be okay, Briggs said calmly. We're arriving near Mâcon, too. Where to, Grim?

_ Once you exit the motorway, follow the signs to downtown, then I'll guide you.

_ He's stopped, Charlie said. Near the _esplanade Lamartine_.

_ Don't lose him, Sam said tightly.

_ He's still got his suitcase, Grim said. We're on him.

Briggs stopped at the tollbooth and gave a few notes to the machine which spat out the change, then sped up on the road. Here traffic was much more lighter and peaceful, Sam noticed, relieved. But it also meant that they'd have to be more discreet.

_ He's walking in the streets near the esplanade, Charlie said. There are a few bars around, maybe Blanchard is around somewhere.

Briggs floored the accelerator, and soon they reached the street leading to the esplanade.

_ Park around where you are, Grim told them. The streets are for pedestrians only.

_ This is getting better and better, Briggs grumbled as he abruptly parked the Peugeot in an empty spot.

Sam shot out of the car and strode towards the esplanade, Briggs next to him.

_ Turn left, Charlie said, then right. You'll reach the rue Carnot. He's in a bar right next to the St Peter's cathedral.

_ Copy, Sam murmured.

The street was almost empty, save for a few elderly people who shot them strange looks while going shopping. Sam knew it was quite early, and they would be immediately spotted. So he slowed his pace, casually strolling like a tourist, and after shooting him a bewildered glance Briggs imitated him.

_ Blanchard is arriving, Grim said. He's ten meters away from the bar, east of the church.

_ I see him, Sam said, still casually walking, hands in his pockets.

He and Briggs pretended to admire the white church, Briggs snapping pictures with his smartphone, while Sam inconspicuoulsy watched their target entering the bar after looking carefully around him. He and Briggs settled in the church, on a bench near the entry, and whispered:

_ Charlie, tune us in and record the conversation.

_ Okay.

Two seconds later Sam heard a scraping chair, and a low voice saying:

_ Salut, Michel! On ne t'a pas suivi? _(Hello, Michel! Not having been followed?)_

_ Some agents tried, another low voice answered in French, more high-pitched, and he knew it was Perrin. I lost them near Fourvière.

_ Good.

_ What is it all about, Max? You know we can't be seen together. And you shouldn't be here at all. If the DGSE learns that you're here...

_ But they don't know, and they won't, unless you betray me...

_ Why should I? As long as you don't inveigle me into one of your schemes...

_ No, Michel, I'm not here for that. I need your help.

_ Again?

Sam heard Perrin's deep sigh, and smirked. Things would become more interesting.

_ I work for a powerful intelligence agency, Blanchard said in a low voice, but I fear they've bitten more than they can chew. Some rival agencies are trying to thwart them, and I'm afraid they're trying to cut all loose ends.

_ In short, they want your head.

_ That's about it. And I'd rather keep it firmly anchored to my shoulders.

_ So what do you want me to do?

_ I want you to shelter me. Give me a new identity with Interpol.

_ I can't do that.

_ You can't or you don't want to?

_ I really can't, Max. We're more policed than you can imagine. Every single request is closely examined by an army of pencil pushers who'd have you arrested faster than you can blink, and me along with you.

_ Listen, Michel.

Sam was startled to hear the worry in Blanchard's voice. Things were turning real ugly for him, but maybe he could use it to their profit. An idea formed in his mind as he heard Blanchard's quivering voice:

_ They're going to kill me. They're on my tracks. I shook them for now, but it won't be long until they find me. My friends have been ambushed in Iceland, I have no one else. Please, Michel, help me! For old time's sake.

Sam only heard silence for a few seconds, then Perrin's flat voice raised in his ear again.

_ I'm sorry, Max.

Sam rose and went to the door, and saw Perrin exiting the bar, his suitcase rolling at his side. Blanchard was sitting inside, following his ex-teammate with hatred and despair on his face. Then he said:

_ Now we go in.

_ What are you going to do? Grim asked him, concerned.

_ I'll offer him what he wants, Sam said, descending the steps of the cathedral, Briggs on his heels. A protection.

_ Sam, we haven't discussed...

_ Trust me.

Grim fell silent, and Sam could tell she wasn't thrilled. But he had to do something. Blanchard was cornered, he would talk if they gave him hope.

He casually entered the bar, ordered three coffees in good French, then walked to Blanchard's table and drew a chair. He sat calmly right opposite the very startled mercenary, and said in French:

_ I think I can help you, Max.

Briggs sat next to him, and soon the waiter brought the coffees. Sam gave him a note and turned back towards Blanchard who had gone pale.

_ Who... who are you? he stammered.

_ I'm American, Sam said, switching to English. And I can give you the shelter you seek.

Blanchard looked relieved and suspicious at the same time. He said in heavily accented English:

_ Why would you do that?

_ Because you can help us stopping your employers, Sam said calmly, sipping his coffee.

Blanchard had a joyless laugh.

_ As if you could! You don't know who're you're talking about.

_ Neither do you, Sam said even more calmly.

Across the table Blanchard narrowed his eyes, clearly appraising him. At last he nodded and said:

_ You're no rookie, I can tell. What are you? CIA? NSA?

_ Something like that, even more secret.

_ And what can you offer me?

_ A new identity and protection in my country, in return of all your info.

_ How can I trust you?

Sam shrugged.

_ I have no personal record with me, so it'll be up to you. But if you think you'll be better alone...

_ No, no, no!

Sam saw the guy had bloodshot eyes and large bags under them, he probably hadn't slept for a while. His hand was trembling on his cup of coffee, he really looked at the end of his tether.

_ That'll do! But what will happen now?

_ You'll tell us your info, then we drive you back to our plane and we head back to the States right away.

_ I have your word?

_ You have, Sam said, locking eyes with him.

The French stared at him for long seconds before nodding.

_ I trust you, Mr...

_ Sam.

_ Sam, he repeated. What do you want to know?

_ Who are you working for, exactly?

_ The Guoangbu.

_ So you're behind all the intel leaks, Sam nodded, and give them to the MSS. We thought so.

_ Wait! Blanchard protested. I'm not the one stealing them! I'm only the carrier to the other agencies.

_ And why give the intel to other agencies?

_ To generate confusion. Make them aware of the leaks and run internal investigations. Distract their attention.

_ The smokescreen, Briggs chimed up grimly.

_ Exactly, Blanchard nodded. And create one single scapegoat.

_ Russia, Sam said.

_ Yes.

_ But what for? Sam asked, sipping the last of his coffee.

Blanchard leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed, and said:

_ Have you heard about Meggido?

Sam felt dread filling his guts like lead, exchanging a dark look with Briggs, but he said calmly:

_ Unfortunately yes.

_ Then you know that some of them are still alive. Étienne Leblanc is behind all this from his prison cell, here in France. He has worked hand in hand with Beijing since a decade, and they're planning a master stroke on the world's chessboard.

_ Do you have specifics? Briggs asked him.

Blanchard shot him a contemptuous look.

_ Of course. Why do you think the Chinese want my skin? It's because Leblanc told me all about it. I worked for him when I was still in the DGSE, I served as a middleman between him and the Guoangbu. I know quite a lot.

_ And what is this master stroke? Sam asked him.

Blanchard shook his head.

_ All I can tell you now is that they're preparing a coup in a strategic country. But I won't say more until I'm safe in the US.

Sam stayed silent, thinking hard. He sensed the guy was telling the truth, he could almost smell his fear. Maybe once aboard the Paladin he would talk a little bit more. He nodded and rose.

_ All right. Let's go, then.

The three of them exited the bar and walked briskly towards the esplanade, cutting short with a small side street. But Sam sensed trouble, and he drew out his pistol. He shielded Blanchard as Briggs turned his back on him and took out his gun, just as two silhouettes emerged from either side of the street. Sam watched them as he heard Grim's tight voice in his ear:

_ They shot out of nowhere, Sam. I don't know how they did it.

_ Who are they?

_ Kestrel's pals, Charlie said grimly.

Sam felt anger rising in him as the two Voron ops approached them. They were both carrying a pistol with their left hand. Ivkin and Kniazev. Sam murmured:

_ Tell Kestrel to phone Kossiak.

_ He's still in surgery, Sam, Grim said with a constricted voice.

Sam felt rage as one of the Russians stopped four meters away from him, saying calmly:

_ Good morning, Sam Fisher. You are escorting a man we want to talk to. Hand him over to us and there will be no mess.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Sam looked carefully at the man pointing his pistol on his head, he himself pointing his Five-seveN at him too, and recognized him as Ivkin, the guy who had accidentally helped Sarto committing suicide by giving him a coffee in Saint Petersburg. He smiled and said:

_ Здравствуйте, Ивкин. _(Good morning, Ivkin)_

Ivkin looked surprised at hearing his name but soon regained composure. Behind Sam Blanchard squirmed in fear, and Sam muttered to him:

_ Let me talk and don't do anything stupid.

Then he said to the Russian ops:

_ I'm sorry, Ivkin, but this man is coming with us. He'll help us.

_ You don't understand the situation, Sam Fisher, Ivkin shook his head calmly, speaking with a thick Russian accent. _Monsieur_ Blanchard here has intel, that's true, but he has also a score to be settled with us.

_ Konovalov? Sam asked seriously.

_ You know about him? Ivkin didn't look surprised this time. Yes, I assume Loskov told you all about him. No wonder he's not with you here. I wonder how you'll be able to prevent him from killing the pitiful scumbag hiding behind you.

Sam felt uneasiness creeping up his dorsal spine. He hadn't thought about that, and maybe it would be dangerous indeed to bring Blanchard back with Kestrel. His ops hadn't told him anything about Konovalov, but according to Ivkin, he certainly had been a close friend of Kestrel's.

_ Don't worry about it, Sam said at last, very calmly. But it's our problem, and Voron will have to ask for info if you want anything else.

Ivkin took a step forward, like Kniazev in front of Briggs, and said:

_ I don't want to start a war between us, Sam Fisher. But I have orders, and I'll drag Blanchard back to Russia with us, whatever the consequences.

_ Are you absolutely sure you want to oppose us, Ivkin? Sam asked him, still very calm. I don't want to hurt you or Kniazev, but Blanchard is staying with us and I won't change my mind.

Three meters away from him he saw Ivkin sweating heavily in spite of the thin fog and rain falling. Sam knew the Russian was aware that his opponent had been a special ops since before he was born, and Sam Fisher's legend was known in Russia. All the men in the small street stood by, watching one another with guns ready, waiting for something. Then Sam heard Grim's voice in his ear:

_ Sam, Briggs, there's another group coming towards you fast. Asian men.

_ The MSS, Sam said, cursing.

Opposite him Ivkin raised a hand to his ear, listening intently, then lowered his weapon. He said with a smirk:

_ We can't risk a fight with the Chinese on our backs. You're safe for now, Sam Fisher, but it won't last.

Then the two Voron ops turned on the spot and ran, soon disappearing in the streets and the fog. Sam took the cue and said:

_ Run!

He, Briggs and Blanchard ran towards the esplanade, crossed the road and sprinted to the Peugeot. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw four men running behind them, looking unarmed but closing in fast. In his ear, Grim said:

_ Hurry! They are six, four behind and two who will reach you in thirty seconds!

Sam could see the car, they could make it. Panting, he bolted to the side passenger as Briggs unlocked the car, and the three men dashed inside. Sam buckled his seat belt and peered out of the windshield as Briggs revved violently, shooting out of the parking spot, then floored the accelerator. The car bounded forward and Briggs drove them along the Saône on the quay.

The three men ducked as they shot past the four Asian guys who, in fact, were armed and shooting them. Sam's window exploded and glass rained on him, but he was okay. Briggs drove on, ignoring the red lights and speeding away in a hurry. Sam turned to look at Blanchard, and his guts filled with lead. Blanchard had been hit. A large red stain was soaking his shirt, and a dark hole was clearly visible near his heart.

_ No! Sam said, unbuckling his belt and jumping on the back seat, removing his jacket. He pressed it on the wound, but one look at the French told him it was too late. Blanchard obviously knew it too, because he grabbed Sam's hand and murmured:

_ Venezuela... Oil...

His eyes became glassy, staring at nothing, and his head reclined on the headrest as he exhaled a last breath. Sam clenched his fists, fighting his rage. Without Blanchard, he knew things would be more difficult, but they had a job to do.

_ Sam? Briggs asked him, checking his rearview mirror.

_ It's too late, he murmured through gritted teeth.

_ Shit.

Sam sat back on the seat, thinking. What would they do with the body? Finally he said:

_ Briggs, park near the river.

Briggs abruptly turned right and drove on. The road was almost deserted, and when Briggs stopped the fog was thick next to the Saône. Sam and him then took out Blanchard's body, removed his fake ID, papers and wallet, and with a sigh tossed it in the water. The body soon surfaced and started drifting away, carried by the gentle current.

Sam watched it for a few seconds, dismay in his heart, then climbed back in the Peugeot. As Briggs headed towards the motorway to Lyon, Sam said through his implants:

_ Grim?

_ Sam? Is he... ?

_ Dead.

She didn't answer, maybe hearing his trouble. He had promised his protection to the French guy, and in the end he hadn't kept his word. It had happened before and it wasn't his fault, he knew it, but it was a heavy weight on his conscience. So many people had died before he could save them! In his long career they were a lot, and reminded him painfully of his failures. Briggs' soft voice rose next to him:

_ It wasn't your fault, Sam. We did all we could.

_ I know, sonny, but...

Briggs' astonished gaze left the road for a few seconds and fell on him, but Sam meant what he had said. He felt so old next to his two ops that he could easily be their father, and they were so close to him, like his family, that he had the constant impression of having two very brilliant and gifted sons around him.

Briggs turned his attention back on the road and asked Grim:

_ Where to Lyon?

_ Follow the river north, she answered at once, then you'll see the signs to the motorway. There's a second access ramp one kilometer away from you.

_ Yeah, I see the blue sign, Briggs acknoweledged. What about our pursuers?

_ Well behind you, Charlie said. We've zoomed in on their faces, and have them IDed. MSS agents.

_ Are they following us? Sam asked with a rumble, shaking himself out of his dismay.

_ No, they're heading towards the motorway too, but towards the south. We'll keep an eye on them in case they're waiting for you.

_ And Voron?

_ Still in Mâcon, Grim said. They joined two other men, probably their backup team, near the city hall, and are still there.

_ Copy, Briggs said, reaching the tollbooth with a huge sigh.

He drove carefully on the motorway, not wanting to draw more attention in spite of the shattered windows on Sam's side and maybe the bullet impacts along the right side of the Peugeot 5008. But all went well and in an hour they reached the Saint-Éxupéry airport. They left the rented car in front of a very angry manager, but Briggs smoothed things out by paying three thousand euros for the damage straight away, with Fourth Echelon's funds, and the man calmed down. Then they walked to the Paladin, Sam feeling tired and weary.

Once in the control room, he threw himself on a chair, rubbing his face. Grim asked him:

_ What do we do now? Do we take off?

He thought about it, looking at his team. They couldn't stay in France, as Voron and the MSS were in the vicinity. But where should they go? Blanchard had talked about Venezuela right before dying, but what for? He took a deep breath and nodded:

_ Yes, we take off. Bring us back home.

Grim shot him a concerned look but contacted the pilots. Then Sam remembered Kestrel's surgery and said:

_ Has the doc finished?

_ Yes, Charlie answered calmly from his computer. Kestrel is still out of it, though. Apparently Andrews has a heavy hand, and the doc didn't want Kestrel to wake up during the operation, so they drugged him heavily.

Sam nodded, not surprised. Kestrel had recounted him the time when he awoke while Dr Collins was removing a bullet from his leg, and Sam had laughed when imagining the scene. Grim came next to him and sat on a chair, putting a hand on his arm.

_ Sam? Has he told you anything?

_ Yeah. He said Venezuela and oil. But he hasn't had the time to...

His voice trailed off, guilt building up in his throat. He needed time to forgive himself, and he was exhausted as he hadn't slept since they went to Boise. Grim obviously saw it and told him:

_ Go have some rest, Sam. We all need rest. It's three in the morning in Baltimore's time, we'll work on Blanchard's infos in a few hours. But now it's useless, we would only make our brains short-circuiting.

_ Yeah, you're right.

The team waited for the plane to be airborne, then went to their cabins. Sam collapsed on his bed fully clothed, and fell asleep immediately.

When he raised his head, the Paladin was landing. Quite disoriented, he waited for the plane to stop completely, then got up and went for a shower. He met Briggs in front of the sinks, shaving, and the ops greeted him with a nod.

_ Morning, Sam.

_ Hi Briggs!

Sam took his time under the hot water, shaking away his drowsiness and guilt. He knew he had only stored the latter in some deeper part of his mind where it would soon come out to taunt him, but right now he needed to focus. They had a mission to finish, and he had to talk to Kestrel.

He quickly dried himself and dressed up, then went to the dining cabin. Grim and Briggs were already there, having a mug of coffee. Sam kissed Grim, poured himself a mug, grabbed a pancake and ate it. Soon he heard a slow pace and soft clonking sounds coming towards the room, and Kestrel entered, leaning on a crutch, his right ankle in a tight splint and his right arm in a sling. Sam greeted him, noticed his small eyes, and saw that his ops wasn't in great shape.

Kestrel sat with caution at the table, grabbed a mug and the coffee pot, and helped himself. Then he took six bagels and wolfed them down in no time, clearly he was starving. Charlie showed up, had a coffee and a muffin, then disappeared, saying he had work. Sam shot a look at Grim and asked her:

_ Anything new?

_ Yes, she said, pursing her lips. Kossiak contacted us last night, he left a furious message. He's demanding that we hand Blanchard over to them.

_ Tough luck, Briggs said without thinking, but starting at the sight of Kestrel abruptly raising his head and shooting daggers at him.

_ What? Blanchard is here?

_ No, Kestrel, Sam sighed. Unfortunately he isn't. The MSS found us in Mâcon, where Blanchard and Perrin met, and they shot our car. Blanchard is dead.

_ What do you mean, "unfortunately"? Kestrel growled.

Sam braced himself, knowing that Kestrel would soon test his capacity at mastering his nerves, and said:

_ He asked Perrin for help, but the guy turned him down. He was being tracked by the MSS which wants to cut all loose ends, as he said. So I offered him our protection.

Kestrel was clearly shocked, but Sam saw with satisfaction that his ops contained his rage and only spat angrily:

_ And I suppose you assumed I wouldn't harm him? After what he did?

_ The only thing I know, and Ivkin reminded me of it too when he and Kniazev faced us in Mâcon, is that Blanchard killed Konovalov. But we don't know who was this Konovalov, Kestrel, and what he meant to you.

_ Ivkin and Kniazev were in Mâcon too? Kestrel asked, frowning.

_ Yes, and I think we would've fired on them, and they on us, if the MSS hadn't come, Sam said calmly, locking eyes with his ops. But you haven't answered my question.

_ And I have no intention of answering you, Sam, Kestrel said drily, getting to his feet and grabbing his crutch.

_ You _will_ answer me, Kestrel, Sam said with a hard tone, glaring at his ops and rising too. Your ex-colleague Ivkin told us we would have had trouble stopping you from killing Blanchard because of Konovalov's death, but I don't like being in the dark. And I certainly don't like our Voron friends knowing more about it than us.

Kestrel shot him a hard look, a dangerous gleam in his brown eyes, but Sam faced him firmly, only waiting. He sensed the matter of this Konovalov was very sensitive for Kestrel, but he had to know. At last Kestrel spat:

_ I can't talk about it.

And he left. Bewildered, Sam heard his halting step down the corridor to his cabin, then the door slamming shut. He felt a huge anger rising in his chest, ignored Grim's soothing comment, and marched to his ops' cabin. He knocked heavily on the door, but Kestrel didn't answer. So Sam, fury boiling in him, slammed open the door and went in, only to find Kestrel prostrated on his bed, face in his left hand, sobbing.

Stunned, Sam stood in the threshold, completely lost. He didn't understand what was happening, but he needed to know. So he closed the door and carefully went to the bed, sitting next to Kestrel who didn't stir, still sobbing. Sam tentatively put a hand on Kestrel's shoulder, and the ops didn't shove him away, a good sign. So Sam inhaled deeply and said kindly:

_ Tell me, sonny.

Kestrel breathed deeply, calming himself, and wiped his tears away. Sam saw him looking up at Alpha's photo, maybe asking her for courage, then said with a hoarse voice:

_ Vassili Sergueievitch Konovalov, nicknamed Дедушка (Dyedushka, _grandfather_ ), was the oldest Voron ops. He was to be fifty-eight this year. He was... an exceptional man.

Sam saw Kestrel wiping another tear from his cheek and breathing heavily. The news of this man's death was truly an ordeal for him, and he felt bad for his ops. But Kestrel surprised him by turning towards him, his bloodshot eyes riveted into his.

_ He was a bit like you, Sam, though not as much talented. But he was like a bear from the outside, gruff and growling, but with a melting heart inside. And he took me under his wing from the moment I set foot in Voron. Said I reminded him of his dead son.

Kestrel was shaking with pain and grief, and Sam listened intently, his hand still on his ops' shoulder. The poor guy had already lost so many people in his life that it tore him apart to hear about another dead person close to Kestrel's heart.

_ He taught me everything I knew before meeting you, Sam. I did several missions with him, and he even saved my life once. I saved him from a bear another time during a mission, so he told me from now on I would be Michka, the little bear, a pun with Micha, short for Mikhail. That's why Igor calls me Michka and not Micha. Everybody in Voron knows about this story. Konovalov was like a kind grandfather for me, Sam. And even if he believed I had betrayed Voron and disowned me, he helped me nevertheless when I came to his place in Moscow. He gave me a gun, fake papers and a shelter for a night, then told me good luck. He never told Voron about my whereabouts, and his faked papers helped me until I met Alpha.

Kestrel took a deep breath and said, his voice trembling:

_ He was the grandfather I've never had, and was deeply appreciated by all Voron ops, except Avilov. So when Igor told me Blanchard had killed him...

Sam nodded, finally understanding his ops' anger. He said apologetically:

_ I'm sorry, Kestrel. It's difficult for me to grasp all these things while focusing on a mission, especially if I don't know anything about them. For me Blanchard was a valuable intel source, nothing more. But for Voron, and for you, he was much more. Knowing all this is important with regard to Kossiak's demand too. Now I understand why he's furious and why Ivkin and Kniazev were ready to attack us.

Kestrel simply nodded, then asked:

_ Could you tell the team for me, please? I won't have the strength to tell the story again.

_ Will do, Kestrel.

Sam rose, giving a last smile to his ops, then exited the cabin, heart heavy. But he didn't feel guilty about Blanchard's death anymore.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Sam entered the control room just as the Fourth Echelon line started to ring. Briggs bent on the phone and said:

_ Kossiak again.

_ I'll answer, Sam said. Go fetch Kestrel.

Briggs nodded and left while Sam strode next to the SMI and picked up the line with a touch on the console.

_ Yes?

_ Sam Fisher, it's Igor Kossiak.

_ Igor Dmitrovitch, Sam said with a sigh. My team told me you left us a message. Sorry we couldn't answer it.

_ I'll get to the point, Kossiak said abruptly. You have Blanchard, and we have some questions for him. So I ask you to hand him over to us.

_ Then we have a problem, Igor Dmitrovitch, Sam said calmly. You see, Blanchard is dead.

Silence fell on the room, and Kossiak's angry voice filled the room after a handful of seconds:

_ What happened? Michka killed him?

_ No. The MSS did. They shot our car when we were driving away, Blanchard caught a bullet in the chest.

_ I don't believe you, Kossiak spat.

_ Are your men still in Mâcon or Lyon? Sam asked him. We tossed Blanchard's body in the Saône, we couldn't do anything else with it. Maybe you'll be able to recover it or hear about it.

Sam turned his head towards the door and saw Briggs entering the room, slowly followed by Kestrel on his crutch. Kossiak's furious voice rose again:

_ Is it some clever way of distracting us? Because if you're lying to me...

_ Sam's not lying, Igor, Kestrel said calmly, reaching the console. Blanchard never came here, or I would've gutted him with my bare hands.

Silence fell again, and this time Sam knew Kossiak believed them. Kestrel never lied, and his tone was clear: he would've killed Blanchard, no matter Sam would have told him. At last, Kossiak said:

_ I'll send my team to find the body.

_ You won't find anything on him, Sam told him calmly. We removed all his papers and possessions.

_ Doesn't matter. I want a photo of his body, like all my ops. The murder of Konovalov was a huge blow, we need it.

_ I'm sorry about Konovalov, Sam said.

_ I can't believe you offered Blanchard your protection, Sam Fisher! Kossiak burst out angrily. After what he had done and knowing what Konovalov meant to Michka, I...

_ Sam didn't know anything about it, Kestrel cut him softly. I told him about Konovalov approximately five minutes ago, and the team is shooting me puzzled looks since they don't know what we're talking about.

_ Michka...

_ He was the one who nicknamed me Michka, Kestrel said, his eyes very bright. How did he die, Igor?

Kossiak said after a few seconds:

_ Trust me, Michka, you don't want to know.

_ Tell me! Kestrel shouted angrily, his fists clenched. I need to know, Igor!

Sam watched him helplessly as on the line Kossiak inhaled deeply and said with a muffled voice:

_ He was badly tortured, and he bled to death. A knife cut in the gut.

Kestrel smashed his left fist on the desk behind him, as his right one was restrained by the sling, but he destroyed the piece of furniture. The desk collapsed, along with the computer and the files on it. Sam saw his ops forcing down a cry of anger and anguish, but Kestrel yelled:

_ The bloody bastard was lucky to be shot by the MSS! I would've made him spill his guts and cry for his mother! These fucking Chinese will pay for that!

_ I agree on that matter, Kossiak said. We're tracking them as well. But be warned, next time you cross my ops' path, they won't be so lenient. If you stand between us and our goals again, then you'll assume the consequences.

_ We're aware of it, Igor Dmitrovitch, Sam said calmly. And be assured that we won't back down before your men. If the fighting becomes inevitable, then know that it's not personal.

_ Same for us, Kossiak replied, and Sam heard a twinge of sadness in his voice. But we serve different countries, so we're adversaries. Goodbye.

_ Bye, Igor Dmitrovitch, Sam said.

He cut the communication and turned towards his team. Grim, Briggs and Charlie were looking expectantly at him, and Kestrel was sitting on a chair, trembling with anguish and fury. The ops looked up at his boss and spat:

_ Blanchard's lucky to be dead! And you're lucky he died before you could bring him here! I would've made a carnage!

_ What's the fuss about, for heaven's sake? Briggs shot angrily. Explain yourself, mate! We need to know what's happening!

Sam feared for a second that Kestrel would throw himself on Briggs and strangle him, but the ops breathed deeply, closing his eyes, and said with a barely controlled voice:

_ Blanchard killed a man whom I regarded as a grandfather, a man who taught me everything, a man that meant a lot to me. He killed him after torturing him, by making him bleedind to death. Yes, that French bastard had a soft death and is truly lucky to have died before coming here.

Sam saw Briggs staying silent, shooting a sympathetic look at his teammate, but Kestrel ignored him and got up, heading back to his cabin on his crutch. And when he went past him, Sam saw his ops' cheeks were shining with tears again. He waited for Kestrel's pace to fade in the corridor, then said:

_ Kestrel's right, we're lucky Blanchard died before coming here. It would've been a disaster, with Kestrel and with Voron. But his death is bothersome. He had valuable intel, and now we are in the dark.

_ Not exactly, Grim countered him. We have some info, with the recorded conversation. And you spoke with him, he told you some things, right?

_ Yeah.

_ He said that the MSS have bitten more than they can chew, Briggs recalled seriously. What does that mean?

_ It means that Leblanc and they are playing an insane game, Sam said, eyebrows knitted. Attacking all the major intel agencies in the world is very risky. The smokescreen is only temporary, who do they think they're kidding?

_ Leblanc? Grim asked, going pale. He's involved?

_ Yes, Briggs nodded. But how can he do it? He's in jail, for heaven's sake!

_ Prisons in France are softer, Sam said grimly. The prisoners have more freedom, and even more if you're a wealthy and influent man.

_ Can we ask for an extradition? Grim wondered.

Briggs grimaced.

_ Leblanc was a political man, I doubt we would succeed on convincing the French authorities to hand him over.

_ But if he's organizing all the leaks and is preparing a coup, we can't let him plan from his cell untouched!

Grim was revolted, and so was Sam. He said:

_ I'll call the president. Maybe she'll be able to do something about it. But in the meantime, we need a plan. We must find the CIA mole and the MSS agents. Grim, any news on this matter?

_ Yes. We IDed the Mossad mole and the CSIS one. Still working on the CIA and SVR ones.

_ Okay. Charlie? Can you keep a eye on our Chinese and Russian friends? Now the MSS knows we're aware of their schemes, even if they probably don't know it's Fourth Echelon. Maybe they'll mistake us with the CIA or NSA, but one cannot be too cautious. And we'll keep an eye on Voron.

_ Okay, Sam, Charlie nodded gravely.

_ Right, Sam said. Grim, call the president.

She bent on the SMI, and soon Sam faced Patricia Caldwell on the huge screen.

_ Good afternoon, Mr Fisher.

_ Good afternoon, Madam President, he said. We've just come back from France.

_ So you were in France, she smiled. Pity you couldn't bring me back a bottle of Bourgogne.

_ I'm afraid it'll have to wait till next time, Sam said, but I'd need some help on a sensitive point.

_ Tell me, she said, her face back to a professional mask.

_ We tracked down a mercenary who was the carrier of the intel leaks, a Frenchman. He told us the Chinese MSS and Étienne Leblanc from Meggido were behind it, they want to create confusion in the major agencies to cover a coup in a strategic country. But the MSS shot our man before we could bring him back with us. The thing is, Madam President, Leblanc is in jail in France, but he pulls the strings nevertheless. So I wonder if you could have him extradited.

On the screen Caldwell folded her hands, pursing her lips. Sam knew it would be difficult, as they hadn't any proof except the words of a dead man. And like he suspected, the woman said with a concerned voice:

_ I'm afraid we won't be able to, Mr Fisher. You don't have enough evidence. But this matter is very worrisome. Maybe we could ask the French authorities to keep Leblanc more secure, in isolated quarters.

_ He's already in isolated quarters, Madam President, Grim chimed in. He shouldn't be able to do what he's doing.

The president of the United States stayed silent for a few more seconds, and Sam waited patiently. Only she could help them on that matter, and he knew she didn't like feeling bound hand and foot. At last she said:

_ I'll phone the French president and see what we can do. I'll call you back as soon as I have news.

_ Thank you, Madam President, Sam nodded.

The communication was cut, and Sam turned towards his team. He started:

_ Okay. So we'll wait for her answer, and in the meantime we'll make a...

_ Иди на хуй! Оставьте меня в покое! _(Fuck off! Leave me alone!)_

Sam stopped and turned his gaze towards the corridor, where Kestrel's furious yell had resonated loudly. He saw then Dr Collins emerging in the control room, looking puzzled.

_ What's the matter with agent Kestrel? he asked calmly. What did he say?

_ Er...

Sam felt hot, not daring translating his ops' insults, and the doc nodded, clearly understanding.

_ I see. He probably doesn't want to be disturbed right now.

_ He's had a major blow, doc, Sam explained with a grimace. A man he regarded as a grandfather has been killed by our target.

The doc shook his head dejectedly, a grim expression on his face.

_ I wonder if one day he'll be free of all those bad news. He has the worst luck in the world concerning the people he likes. Anyway, I wanted to tell him the bone marrow transplantation would take place in ten days, on the 12th.

Sam's concern towards his grandchildren resurfaced, and he swallowed.

_ So it would be better if we could finish this mission before.

_ Yes, the doc said darkly, and watch agent Kestrel's back in the meantime. We can't have him killed or badly injured now. Your grandson has started a chemotherapy, he needs the bone marrow in the coming month.

_ We'll take care of him, Briggs assured the doc with a firm voice. He'll not die on us.

_ Good, Dr Collins said with a small smile. So what now? We're back in Baltimore, is the crew going to be off-duty for a while?

Sam thought about it. They had to work on the finding of the CIA mole, and there was no need of the Paladin for that. So he shot a questioning look at Grim, and she nodded.

_ Yes, he finally said. You can disembark, doc. We'll call you if we need to leave, but I don't think it'll happen before two or three days.

_ Good, Dr Collins said. I'll spread the word. Have a good day, then.

_ Thanks, doc. You too.

Sam watched the doc and the analysts leaving the control room, and turned towards his team. He thought aloud:

_ Maybe we should think about having some small headquarters around here, to be out of the plane in cases like that.

_ I'll study the question, Grim acknoweledged. But right now, we have work to do.

_ Yeah, you're right, he sighed. We need to find the CIA mole. It's the top priority. Charlie?

_ Still searching in the MSS' servers, Sam, the tech said, rubbing his eyes. I need a coffee.

_ Okay, I'll fetch you one. Briggs, you do the same with the CIA's database, and Grim, you comb through all the accounts and files of Zeller and his team. I need a name before this evening.

The team nodded and set to work. Sam went to the kitchen and prepared a strong coffee, and he filled five cups. He put them on a large tray and brought them back to the control room, offering one to each member of his team already buried deep in work. Then he laid down his coffee on the SMI, grabbed the last cup and headed for Kestrel's cabin. He knocked softly on the door and said, not expecting any answer:

_ Kestrel, I have a coffee for you. I'll set it in the corridor, next to your door. And when you feel ready, I'd like you to help us finding the CIA and SVR moles, please.

He put the cup on the floor and was about to leave when the door opened. He turned and faced Kestrel, poker face on but an intense hatred in his eyes, who said with a calm but hoarse voice:

_ I am ready, Sam.

Sam simply nodded as his ops, still leaning on his crutch with his left arm and his right one tightly pressed against his chest in the sling, asked him:

_ Could you take my mug of coffee, please?

Sam nodded again and grabbed the cup, then led his ops to the control room. The team raised their heads at the sound of Kestrel's pace and crutch, but wisely stayed silent and quickly went back to their tasks. Sam helped Kestrel on a chair in front of a desk next to the one the ops had destroyed, but Kestrel didn't comment or apologize. He simply put his crutch on the floor, took his coffee from Sam and asked, sipping it with his eyebrows furrowed:

_ What can I do?

_ I want you to search in our copy of Voron's database for a mole, Sam said. We don't know if the mole in Russia belongs to Voron or the SVR, and I want to be able to dismiss the possibility of a Voron traitor. Look for suspect missions, backgrounds or financial oddities.

Kestrel nodded and set to work, soon reading the cyrillic files. Sam heaved a sigh, then sat on a chair, his chin on his right hand, thinking hard. He tried to focus on the motives of the CIA mole, but the state of his grandchildren kept popping up in his mind, impairing his thoughts. So he got up and went to the kitchen, cooking lunch. He made a beef stew and doughnuts filled with raspberry jam, then called his team.

Lunch was quickly eaten, and silence was thick. Sam knew the team, like him, was sensing Kestrel's fury and grief, and they wanted to avoid a wreckage of the dining cabin. But Sam told him as Kestrel was halfway through his fifth doughnut after three plates of stew:

_ Kestrel, Dr Collins told me that you'd have the taking of your bone marrow in ten days, on the 12th, and James will have it transplanted right afterwards.

_ The 12th of May, Kestrel said with a faraway look in his eyes, eating the last bit of his doughnut and licking the jam from his fingers. Do you know it's Alpha's birthday? Seems like a good date to give a new start to James' life.

Sam, startled, stared at his ops who was absent-mindedly fiddling with Alpha's baptism medal on the chain he wore around his neck, staring at the small windows. He could see the pain in his ops's eyes, but Kestrel soon rose and said, leaning heavily on his crutch:

_ Come on, we have two bastards to find. The sooner we deal with them, the better we can focus on more important matters, like your grandchildren's health.

And Sam, rising too and clearing the table with Grim, could only approve silently.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

For six hours Kestrel concentrated on the screen of his computer, peering hard at every line of the countless files he browsed in his search for the SVR mole. He hardly looked up when Sam received an angry call from Zeller, asking for explanations for what had happened in Lyon, but was satisfied to hear his boss snapping at the CIA supervisory agent to focus on their job in Langley and mind their own business.

After five hours, he thought he had something in some strangely written report missions of a Voron ops and concentrated on the guy. An hour later, he had found several suspects cash transfers, and his heart filled with anger. He turned and asked Briggs across the room:

_ Briggs? Could you check something for me, please?

The whole team raised their heads from their computers, even Charlie dug out from a large jar of peanut butter, and shot him hopeful looks. Sam asked him:

_ You found the mole?

_ Maybe, Kestrel said, but I have to check something first.

_ I'm listening, mate, Briggs told him, ready to use the CIA's database.

_ Ernesto Ortega, Bolivian. What does the CIA have on him?

Briggs bent on his keyboard and launched the search. And a few seconds later he read:

_ Ernesto Ortega, 42, born in La Paz. Mercenary since his late teens, but strongly suspected to have acquaintances in the SVR. He's on the FBI watchlist and Interpol's one. Believed to be in China since the last ten years, and has worked with known members of the Guoangbu during the last decade.

_ Then I have the mole, Kestrel said, anger filling his guts.

He sent the file on the SMI and the team rose, looking at the console. He stayed on his chair but turned towards the large screen, and Sam read incredulously:

_ Mikhail Antonovitch Poliakov!

_ Yes, Kestrel rumbled loudly. That's probably why the MSS tracked you in Mâcon. I assume Poliakov was there, in the backup team of Ivkin and Kniazev, with Kandinski, and he tipped his friends off. But what's worrying me is that Poliakov came here, in the Paladin, last January.

Sam paled, like Grim, and Kestrel's chest filled with blinding rage. He had trusted Poliakov, and knew Kossiak did too, even having protected him and his boyfriend Kandinski under Avilov's command. But that also meant Kandinski couldn't be trusted either. Sam swallowed but said:

_ The Paladin's been thoroughly searched since our last mission. We're safe from the MSS.

_ But he knows our gear and the simple existence of Fourth Echelon, Grim said darkly. The Chinese must know it was us in Mâcon, and even more if the CIA mole told them about us neutralizing the agents in the airport.

_ It doesn't change anything, Briggs said. We knew sooner or later the MSS would learn about us, that's no big deal. But Poliakov is in Voron, and Kossiak trusts him. We have a real problem.

_ We must tell Kossiak, Sam said before Kestrel could do so. He must know, but he must also wait to arrest him. We have to discover the CIA mole.

_ What makes you think it's him, Kestrel? Grim asked.

_ Some reports he wrote were slightly different from the ones written by his teammates, and I was one of them. I remember a mission in particular I did with Ivan Kossiak, Poliakov and Remizov in Bulgaria. Poliakov's version of events is very strange in his report, and during this mission we faced some Asian men who had seemed to know exactly where to find us. And I also found some cash transfers from Ortega to Poliakov, supposedly to pay for tip-offs. But Ortega wasn't on the payroll list of the SVR or Voron informers, and he wouldn't pay a Voron ops, that doesn't make sense. I met Ortega eight years ago, he is a slimy piece of shit and hates Russians.

_ So Poliakov must have stolen the SVR intel, Sam said. Do we have enough evidence?

_ Yes, Kestrel said, his heart tightening in dismay, but there's something you must know.

He saw all eyes fixing on him, and said as calmly as he could:

_ I don't know if it's relevant, but Kossiak told me last January that Poliakov and Kandinski were a couple. We can't rule out Kandinski from being Poliakov's accomplice. However, I found nothing to prove it.

The team stayed silent for a few seconds, then Sam said:

_ That will have to be checked by Voron. The matter is out of our hands. But we'll call Kossiak right away.

_ It's one in the morning in Moscow, Kestrel said, checking his OPSAT. Maybe we'll have to wait to...

A small alarm rang from his smartphone, and he fished it out of his pocket. He opened the message he had received and saw a photo of a naked body on a steel table, maybe in a morgue. He enlarged it and recognized Blanchard's face, his swollen flesh gnawed by some fish, and had a ruthless smirk. A small Russian commentary was attached to the photo, and he read it with satisfaction: "Though you'd like the view. Igor"

_ Так тебя за дело досталось, ублюдок! _(It fucking serves you right, bastard!)_

_ Kestrel? Sam asked him with caution.

Without a word, Kestrel handed him his phone, and the team looked at the screen. Charlie had a grimace and hastily turned his gaze, but Sam, Briggs and Grim didn't look surprised or upset. Sam gave the smartphone back to Kestrel and said:

_ At least we know he's still awake. Call him, Kestrel, and ask for a trade of favours. The mole for him, and he waiting for our go to arrest Poliakov.

Kestrel nodded, bracing himself, and he got up. He went to the console, leaning on it after dropping his crutch, and dialed his friend's number with the Fourth Echelon secure line. After two ringings the line was picked up:

_ Да?

_ The two most powerful warriors are patience and time, Kestrel said in English with a sigh.

_ Tolstoi, my favourite author, Kossiak's calm voice rose from the SMI. I have a book written by him in my bookcase, you're lucky.

_ Thanks for the photo, Igor. I like the view indeed.

_ Yes, my men went in the morgue in Lyon. Small satisfaction, but this asshole had started to feed the fish, and I like that.

_ So do I. Dyedushka would've liked it.

Kestrel's emotion and grief was menacing to erupt again, but he forced it down. He would take the time to grieve properly later, but right now he had a job to do.

_ Speaking of Dyedushka, Kossiak said hesitantly, he left you an envelope, Michka.

_ What?

Kestrel couldn't believe his ears. Konovalov, even if he had helped him while he was on his own in Russia, had disowned him and considered him a traitor. What message could have he left him? But Kossiak went on:

_ I found it yesterday, in one of the drawers of his desk, here in our headquarters. Nobody had had the strenght to go in there since his death last November, but I finally went with Cristina Vladimirovna. It's for you, Michka, he wrote your full name on it. I haven't opened it. But now I don't know how to send it to you.

Kestrel's mind was swirling with thoughts and emotions, he couldn't think straight. His left fist clenched on the console, but he had to focus. So he balanced himself on his left foot and slapped himself sharply. The pain shut out the memories, and he concentrated on the present moment, ignoring the bewildered looks of the team around him. He said, leaning back on the console:

_ I guess you'll be able to find a way to drop it at the US embassy, so it'll reach me soon enough. But right now I have bad news, and a trade of favours to ask you.

_ I'm listening.

_ I found the mole who stole the SVR intel.

_ How did you do?

_ I used our copy of your database. Everything's in there, you'll be able to check what I'm saying easily.

_ I suppose I can't blame you for having kept a copy, Kossiak sighed dejectedly, although it's a thorn in my ass. So, tell me, who will I have to kill?

_ That's when I ask a trade of favours, Igor, Kestrel said seriously. I give you the name, and you wait before uncovering him.

_ Why should I wait? The sooner we get rid of this traitor, the better.

_ It's because we still don't know who's the CIA mole, Kestrel explained. And if you arrest your man too soon, it'll tip off the MSS, and we won't be able to stop them.

_ So they have a plan, Kossiak said, catching up at once. I knew it. What are they preparing?

_ We're still working on it. Blanchard had the intel, but he's dead. Now we must find other sources of info.

_ I see. But why should I trust you?

_ After all we did for you, Igor, I'm quite offended you're asking such a question.

_ True, Michka. Forgive me, but I have problems of my own. Maybe we're having the same without knowing it, but I can't talk about them.

Kestrel only waited, exchanging a dark look with his team. It was Kossiak's call, they could only hope he would help them by waiting a little.

_ All right, Kossiak finally said. I'll wait two days before arresting the mole, I hope it'll be enough for you. I'm accountable towards the SVR, I can't delay more.

_ Thanks, Igor. And please sit down.

_ I'm sitting, Michka. Tell me.

_ Mikhail Antonovitch Poliakov.

_ Чёрт! _(Shit!)_ He's one of my most trusted men! Are you sure?

Kestrel sighed again, sadness filling his heart. He said softly:

_ You'll compare his mission reports in Bulgaria and Finland with mine, in Siberia and Chechnia with Ivan's, in North Ossetia with yours, and so on. And you'll check his links, and the financial ones in particular, with a Bolivian mercenary named Ernesto Ortega who's known to work for the MSS.

Kossiak stayed silent for a few seconds, and Kestrel could hear his jerky breathing. Learning that Poliakov was certainly a traitor was a huge blow for his friend, but he couldn't have kept his mouth shut. The threat of the MSS and Leblanc was too serious to stay idle. At last Kossiak asked:

_ What about Kandinski?

_ I haven't found anything, Kestrel answered calmly. You'll have to check for yourself.

A few more seconds passed, then Kossiak confessed:

_ They are in France, I assume you knew it. But I gave them a mission. I can't call them back now, or Poliakov will know something's going on.

_ As long as you haven't sent them on our tail... , Kestrel said.

But Kossiak stayed silent, and dread crept in his throat.

_ Ђоже мой! _(My God!)_ Igor, how could you?

_ I'm sorry, Igor's voice sounded genuinely full of concern and remorse. I only told them to follow Fourth Echelon and preserve our interests. I was really angry after what happened with Blanchard, I couldn't let things in that state. I have some answers to give to the SVR and above, Michka.

_ Igor, Kestrel rumbled angrily, Vialitsyn told me once to preserve our interests during a mission. You know what he meant, I had to kill all my targets. Now Poliakov will want to do the same!

_ They have strict orders not to kill you!

_ But Poliakov will obey Beijing's orders and try and kill us! Kestrel shouted, smashing his fist on the SMI. They're aware of us, now we're all in danger! And maybe Poliakov will kill Ivkin and Kniazev if Kandinski is truly with him!

_ I know, Kossiak murmured. It's a nightmare.

_ Call them back!

_ I can't. They have tossed their phones and must stay hidden until you make your next move. Only then will they contact me.

_ Igor, cукин сын! _(son of a bitch!)_ Kestrel yelled in fury. You could have had me killed any time, I wouldn't have resented you, but I'm to give some bone marrow to a baby in ten days! If Poliakov kills me the baby dies!

_ I'm really sorry, Kossiak's trembling whisper rose. I trust you and your team to stay alive until I can call them back. And if you have to kill Poliakov, just do it.

_ I most certainly will, Kestrel spat. But if I kill him, Kandinski will want to kill me, like Ivkin and Kniazev since they don't know anything. It's a nest of vipers! Чёрт! _(Shit!)_

_ I'll see what I can do, Kossiak said at last. Please trust me.

_ I trust you, Igor, but I don't trust your team, Kestrel said, disgruntled. And if I die, you'll have the death of an innocent baby on your conscience.

_ Please stay safe. I swear I'll find a solution.

_ You'd better, Igor. Now I must leave.

_ I'm sorry.

Kestrel hung up the line with a furious punch on the SMI, then he headed for the training room after grabbing his crutch. He needed some time alone to think.

He stopped in front of the special punch bags, made of sand and kevlar-reinforced leather, and looked at them sullenly. With his right ankle not touching ground and his right arm in a sling, he couldn't let the steam off on them. So he went to a pile of mats next to the door and carefully lay down on them. Once comfortably settled, he practised sophrology, relaxing his tense body, and thought about the problem.

He was furious after Kossiak, even if he could understand his difficult position, but he wasn't worried about himself. If he had to be killed, he wouldn't have bothered, but he had to save James Samuel Woodridge first. And that was driving him crazy. And of course, he couldn't let his team be killed by a traitor like Poliakov either. But he knew the team that was after them, they were good. Too good to let them roaming freely around Fourth Echelon. And Kossiak had hinted that they were watching them, waiting for their next move, so they probably were in Baltimore already.

Kestrel sighed in frustration. He couldn't risk Sam and Briggs' life and ask them to kill all Voron ops. And Ivkin and Kniazev were innocent, not intent on killing them. They couldn't attack them. No, he had to find a way to neutralize only Poliakov, and Kandinski if he was with his boyfriend, without waging war on Voron. A real Chinese puzzle, he thought humourlessly.

He thought for a solution, and came up with nothing. He had the feeling of being trapped, like in a maze with high sleek walls and no exit. Like in his coma, he recalled gloomily. The same sensation of helplessness, while being at the mercy of some scumbags like his handlers in Koltsovo, all because some fucking scoundrel like Kobin had gave him over to his executioners.

And suddenly, a possible solution hit him. But the deal it implied was so heart-wrenching and difficult for him he had to be sure it was his only solution. But after racking his brains for another fifteen minutes, he realized he had no choice. So he slowly got up and made his way back to the control room.

Sam welcomed him with a concerned expression and asked him:

_ Are you all right?

_ Yes. I think I know how to protect us from Poliakov.

_ We thought about it too, Grim said, coming next to the console like the team, but we couldn't see how to neutralize only him and not his teammates. And we can't risk an open war with Voron.

_ No, indeed, Kestrel said, his heart sinking. That's why I need to phone Kobin.

_ What? Briggs exclaimed loudly. _You?_ You want to phone Kobin?

_ It really burns my ass, Kestrel admitted with a grimace, but I don't see any other solution. And I just can't let myself be killed right now. James needs me.

He saw Sam shooting him a concerned look, and he told him:

_ What I'm going to do is against all rules, Sam. And I know you won't approve. But for this matter, I know what is at stake, I know our adversaries. So I ask you to trust me and let me do what I'm going to do.

Sam locked eyes with him, and Kestrel knew they were at a crossroads. He needed his boss' trust or they were doomed, but after the Game of Trust he would see if Sam's trust was still strong. At last Sam said:

_ I trust you, Kestrel. Do what you have to do.

Kestrel nodded and asked Charlie:

_ Please call Kobin.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Charlie made the call, and Kestrel braced himself. He took a deep breath, relaxing as much as possible, as the ringings echoed in the control room. Then he heard Kobin's voice, immediately irritating him, and forced himself to focus. Too much was at stake.

_ Yes?

_ Kobin, it's Kestrel.

_ Why are you calling me, Kestrel? Kobin asked angrily. Wanna warn me you're coming to kill me?

_ I want to make a deal with you, he said through gritted teeth.

Silence fell on the line, and Kestrel could tell Kobin, like his teammates, didn't expect something like that. Hell, he never would have expected something like that either, but he had to ensure his team and James' safety at all costs. But the price was very high. Terribly high. At long last he heard Kobin's astonished voice rising again:

_ What did you just say? You wanna make a deal with me?

_ Yes.

_ And what can you offer me? Kobin said contemptuously. It's not as if we're BFFs.

_ I can swear to you that I won't kill you, Kestrel said, his fists clenching. Never.

_ And why should I believe you?

_ Because I'll swear it on Alpha's grave.

Around him Kestrel saw bewildered and alarmed looks, and Briggs shooking his head adamantly. But he knew he had no choice, even if it wrenched him. They would still have leverage on Kobin with Sam's score with him, but he himself needed to draw a line under his past. Maybe it was for the best, he thought dimly.

_ I can't believe what I'm hearing, Kobin said, incredulity in his voice. But I know you only have one word, Kestrel. So what do you want in return?

_ I want you to give me one of your customers, Kestrel said calmly, masking his disarray at making a deal with the man who wrecked his life.

_ And be killed in retaliation? Now I know why the stakes are so high! Well, that's a no!

_ You're sure that's your last word, Kobin? Kestrel asked him very calmly but a dangerous edge in his voice. You don't want to reconsider your position?

Kobin stayed silent, and this time Kestrel knew he was doing the right thing. He was weary to threaten the scoundrel, he wanted to move on. But even if it was the last time, he needed to be threatening to ensure Kobin's cooperation. And finally he heard the arms dealer sighing deeply:

_ What does it involve, exactly? Do you want to kill him?

_ No, I just want info. He won't know you gave him away.

_ And why asking me? Don't you have other means of finding him?

_ If we had I wouldn't have asked you.

_ That I can believe, Kobin said thoughtfully. Okay, Kestrel, you have a deal. Now you swear.

_ I swear on Alpha's grave that I will never kill you, Andriy Kobin, Kestrel said solemnly. And now, I want the location and phone number of Piotr Czech.

_ Oh my God!

Kestrel smirked, at least he would have the satisfaction of keeping Kobin on tenterhooks.

_ I'm waiting, Kobin.

_ You swear you won't tell him anything about our deal?

_ I'm not stupid, Kobin. Well, maybe I am since I made a deal with you, but be assured I won't tell him anything about you.

_ Okay, Kobin exhaled , clearly stressed out. Okay. He's in Chad right now, I saw him two weeks ago. Here's his phone number.

Kestrel saw Grim carefully noting the number, and he said calmly:

_ You won't regret our deal, Kobin, but I most certainly will.

_ As long as you stay away from me we can be BFFs, Kestrel, Kobin tried to snarl but failed to mask his uneasiness. Well, I'm off.

_ Until next time, Andriy, Kestrel said.

The line went dead, and Kestrel exhaled deeply. The faces were grim around him, but he felt better already at having settled his score with the arms dealer. Finally Sam asked, clearly in dismay:

_ Why did you do that, Kestrel?

_ Two reasons, Sam, Kestrel answered calmly. First, I really need to contact Piotr Czech, and only Kobin could help me with that matter. And second, I want to move on, and I can't if I mull over my past by staying in conflict with Kobin. He ruined my life, but now I alone decide of my fate. I don't want to give him more importance than he deserves in my future.

Across the SMI Sam looked skeptical, but next to him Grim smiled and put a hand on his arm.

_ You've done well, Kestrel. For my part I think you made the right choice. But who's Piotr Czech?

_ I'll tell you all about him later, Grim, Kestrel said. But I still have work to do. Charlie, can you find me the access page of the Bahamian Banking United, please? And give me a Russian keyboard, and a secure phone line to make a call.

Charlie obliged, and soon Kestrel bent on the SMI, lightly touching the console to press the right keys. He typed one of his old aliases, Glib Lakeev, and a password, and soon the screen displayed the account Alpha had created for him. He frowned at the sum of money, maybe it wouldn't be enough. He would have to negociate hard. Briggs choked on his right, and Charlie stammered:

_ Four... four million dollars?

_ It's Meggido money, Kestrel explained with a twinge of pain. Alpha diverted it for us.

_ And all this time you had that money and you haven't touched it? Are you crazy?

_ It's Meggido money, Charlie! Kestrel spat violently. It's not mine! This money has been earned with blackmail, murder and traffic, I only use it now because I have no other choice!

Charlie cowered before Kestrel's harsh tone, and the ops took a deep breath. He went back to the SMI and dialed Czech's number. After only one ringing, he heard a very deep voice booming in the loudspeaker:

_ Да?

_ Здравствуйте, Пётр _(Hello, Piotr)_ , Kestrel said calmly, shutting out the memories flooding his mind.

_ Michka, the amused voice chuckled in Russian. How could you possibly find my number?

_ If I told you, you wouldn't believe me.

_ That I can easily believe. So what do you want?

_ The repayment of your debt.

Kestrel wasn't surprised to hear silence on the line. And he saw around him the puzzled looks of his team. He would have to explain and recount a lot of things. But first things first, he thought. The Voron team was a priority. At last Piotr said:

_ I really wish you had left me alone that day. I have a job right now.

_ Mine can't wait, and you won't do it for free.

_ Ho ho! So it's really dangerous, then. Now I'm interested. What's the job?

_ I want you and your team to secure four men and ship them back to Moscow in two days at the latest. Alive and unharmed.

_ And I assume these men aren't angels, if you ask me to do it.

_ Old friends of ours, Kestrel said grimly, rubbing his eyes.

_ I see. Alive and unharmed, huh? And in two days, maximum. You know how much it'll cost you, Michka? I doubt you have the money.

_ Don't underestimate me, Piotr. You'd be surprised. So, how much?

_ Four Voron ops, brought back to our old headquarters, I suppose. Alive and unharmed, in less than two days. Two for each head.

_ Piotr, Kestrel smirked, amused. Don't jerk me around, I know exactly the price I should pay you, I've done it before. I only asked out of courtesy. That'll be two million dollars for all four.

_ Michka, you're harsh. Me and my team vowed never to come back near Moscow again, we'll risk our necks. You can do better than that, I know it. Six millions and you have your deal.

_ But having your slate clean is priceless, Kestrel said softly. So you'll do me a good price. Four million dollars, and we're even.

He heard a sigh, then Piotr said:

_ You have your deal. Half of the money right away, the rest after the job is done.

_ Deal, Kestrel said, turning to the bank account. Give me the numbers.

He entered the numbers Czech gave him, and made an immediate transfer of two million dollars to the account of his old comrade. He sent the order, and two minutes later:

_ I clearly underestimated you, Michka. Okay, give me the specifics.

_ The team is in Baltimore, probably around the airport. Poliakov, Kandinski, Ivkin and Kniazev. I insist, Piotr: they must be delivered at Voron's headquarters in Moscow alive and unharmed.

_ What if I want to have a little revenge?

_ Then I'll be very clear, Kestrel said with a menacing growl. Not only you won't have your money, but I'll be on my way to kill you, Piotr. And I won't show mercy. You probably heard about Avilov, it was my doing.

_ Yes, I heard about it, Piotr said with the tiniest of quivering in his voice. I know you can be quite merciless, Michka. Okay, I accept your terms. I suppose you'll want photos?

_ Every four hours. Send them to the number with which I'm calling.

_ Okay. Well, I have a plane to catch. Bye, Michka.

_ Bye, Piotr.

Kestrel cut the communication, and he staggered on his sore foot. Briggs helped him sitting on the chair behind him, and he heaved a huge sigh.

_ Thanks, мой друг _(my friend)_.

_ Now, Sam said, eyebrows furrowed, would you explain yourself, Kestrel?

_ Sit down, then, Kestrel said. It's quite a long story.

Puzzled, the team sat around him, and he started:

_ Piotr Czech is an ex-Voron ops like me. We teamed up more than once during Voron missions. He and his team have been kicked out thanks to Avilov eight years ago, and they've been mercenaries ever since. But he's specialized in shipments, dangerous ones. Abducting and transporting people are routine jobs for him and his three comrades. When I was on my own, freelancing in the Russian Federation, I ran into them once. We had the same target, only with different goals. I happened to save Piotr's skin, and I let him go with our target, only wanting a photo after the target's death to fulfill my contract. He agreed and obliged, saying that he owed me for it. So I asked him for the repayment today.

_ Are you sure he'll do what you want him to do? Briggs asked, concerned. He won't betray you, will he?

_ Piotr has only one word, Kestrel smiled. He and his teammates have been kicked out of Voron because they didn't follow Avilov's orders, which were to murder two families with six children in retaliation for an attack in Chechnia. They're mercenaries, but like me before they select their jobs.

Kestrel noticed a fugitive sadness in Sam's eyes, and he knew his boss had also been a mercenary for some time, while on the run from Third Echelon. Their stories were quite similar, but at least Sam had never been left for dead. He quickly shut out the bad memories, and exhaled deeply. It's behind you, Kestrel, мой друг, you've moved on. He said:

_ Now, all we have to do is staying here until I have news of Piotr. We should be safe, but better be on our guard nevertheless, in case Poliakov tips the MSS off again.

_ Yes, Grim added, and we still have the CIA mole to find. But we should have dinner first. Sam?

Kestrel saw his boss was worried and disapproval was etched on his face. Kestrel had warned him, but maybe the Splinter Cell hadn't expected to have to rely on a bunch of old Voron ops to solve their Voron problem. So Kestrel said softly:

_ I'm sorry, Sam. We can't risk an open conflict with the Voron team. Maybe we could've found another solution, but this one has its merits. It'll leave our hands clean. Piotr is like a grave, he won't talk. And no one will link us to the bank account, Alpha had done the job well, I can tell you.

_ I know, Kestrel, Sam shook his head. Don't worry. I can't resent you. I only hope this Piotr will succeed.

_ He will, Kestrel said with certainty. He never fails. Like I said, I teamed up with him several times, and he can be trusted while on a job.

_ Does that mean you wouldn't trust him outside a job? Briggs asked curiously.

Kestrel smiled. A good question, he thought. He simply said:

_ Piotr likes decompressing after tough jobs. With women and alcohol. And I daresay I never liked that too much, except maybe a glass of vodka.

Briggs nodded thoughtfully, and next to him Charlie said enthusiastically:

_ Well, at least we can concentrate on the CIA mole now. You did a good job, chief!

_ Don't call me that! Kestrel suddenly yelled, fury erupting out of him before he could control it. Never again!

A loud silence rang after his violent outburst, but he felt rage and guilt boiling in him. He knew Charlie couldn't have known about this nickname, but it brought back so much aching memories he just couldn't hear it again. So he clenched his fists, forced his turmoil back in his guts, and exhaled slowly. He shot a glance at the tech who looked devastated and afraid of him, and he said as calmly as he could:

_ Please forgive me, Charlie. I didn't mean to scare you. Just don't call me that again.

_ Who called you that? Sam asked him gently.

After a few painful seconds, Kestrel said sadly:

_ Archer.

He closed his eyes, seeing the Third Echelon ops in his memory, during their missions and after, in the plane, where he had had to kill him. Archer had always been joking around, trying to get the Russian ops warmer towards him, and the boastful American had succeeded. Kestrel had warmed up to him so much that he still felt a crushing guilt at having shot him to defend himself, six years later.

He bent forward, trying to force his tears down, and took long, deep breaths to regain composure. He felt Briggs' hand on his shoulder, and it warmed him. He felt supported, not alone. And he knew someday the guilt would fade, someday. At last Sam said:

_ Yes, I think we should have dinner, then we'll find that CIA bastard.

The team rose around him, and Kestrel hoisted himself up with his crutch. He felt tired and weary, and his ankle and ribcage ached. He followed Sam in the corridor, but before he could enter the dining cabin Sam turned on the spot to face him and murmured:

_ I just wanted to thank you, Kestrel. I hope we'll get rid of the Voron team thanks to you and your old friends. But I can see you're not healed yet. You look in pain, and tired. So I'd like you to sleep after dinner. We'll soon need you on the field.

_ Okay, Sam, Kestrel agreed immediately. I cannot say I feel great, and I'd like to lie on my bed for a while. I hope I'll feel better tomorrow.

_ I trust you with that, Sam smiled gently.

They both entered the dining cabin, and soon Charlie brought microwaved industrial pizzas, his only cooking talent, and Kestrel ate three. But his eyes were closing in spite of himself, maybe because of some lingering effects of the heavy anesthesia, and he almost fell asleep on the table. Briggs caught his shoulder before he could crash onto his plate, and Sam and him helped Kestrel on his foot, escorting him to his cabin. The ops collapsed on his bed, his head spinning out of tiredness and pain, and in less than ten seconds he sank into a dreamless sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

After dinner, Grim led the way back to the control room, and buried herself in work. The team was intent on finding the CIA mole, but this bastard knew how to cover his or her tracks. For four hours they came up with nothing, and at the console Sam was getting more and more impatient and angry as the night went on. Finally, he snapped and went to bed before he could lose control and lash out on the SMI, and Briggs and Charlie followed him dejectedly.

So Grim, left alone before her computer, tried to find another way of reaching the mole. She put her face in her hands, thinking hard. Sam had told her that Blanchard was the carrier of the intel, so the mole must have met him or her, and more than once. So far, the CIA had had four leaks, so one of the agents in Zeller's team had met the French mercenary four times. By tracking Blanchard's movements, maybe she could find who he had met.

She dug out Blanchard's fake papers and credit cards, and set to work. It took her three hours of painstaking efforts, but at last she spotted an interesting fact in some of the man's accounts. He seemed to have liked a small restaurant in Bethesda, not too far from Langley, and had gone in there just after each stealing of the intel. So she hacked into the restaurant's surveillance system, and searched for the matching days.

Unfortunately for her, all the agents of Zeller's team, supervisory agent included, seemed to like this particular restaurant and went in at some point. But she peered hard at her screen, even using the SMI to enlarge the images, and she saw two exchanges of USB keys between Blanchard and the possible mole. Smiling in triumph, she dug out everything they had on the agent, and soon discovered a very suspect account in an off-shore bank, counting hundreds of thousand dollars.

_ Gotcha! she rejoiced in spite of her burning eyes and her exhaustion.

At that moment she heard Sam's pace behind her, and felt his kiss on her neck.

_ It's three in the morning, my love, he murmured tenderly, kissing her shoulder. You don't want to sleep?

_ I found the mole, she announced.

He raised his head and looked at the screen above her shoulder. He read the name, fury constricting his voice.

_ Special agent Rick Tomlinson. I'll wring his neck first thing this morning.

_ Yes, you'll do that, she nodded wearily. And we'll tell Voron, the Mossad and the CSIS about their moles at the same time. I hope it'll be enough to come as a huge blow for our Chinese friends.

_ It most certainly will, Sam nodded, resuming his kissing of her neck. Thank you, my love. You've done a great job, as usual. But now, you should have some rest.

She sighed in tiredness, and agreed calmly. He escorted her to her cabin, and helped her out of her clothes. But she wanted to have him more than a few stolen minutes, so she stripped him too, and soon they fell on her bed, slowly making love. He led her to rapture, and she kissed him, caressing his face and chest. But soon her eyelids grew heavy, and she fell asleep on his shoulder on the narrow bed.

When she awoke, she was half-lying on Sam, still sleeping soundly with his cute snores, and she checked her alarm clock. 7.45 am, time to get up, she thought. She carefully rose, but Sam groaned and woke up too.

_ What time is it?

_ A quarter to eight, she said calmly, gathering her things for a good shower. Time to kick some asses.

_ I can't wait, he smiled ruthlessly, fully awake, getting up too.

They had a good shower together, not caring about what the team would think, and she felt great. Then they went to the kitchen and she saw that this time Kestrel had beat her there. The coffee was already ready, and the table was set. The ops, hair and beard back to normal, greeted them while eating a huge plate of eggs and bacon with buttered muffins, and she helped herself too. Sam asked Kestrel:

_ How are you feeling today?

_ Better, Sam, thanks, Kestrel said, gulping down his coffee. I think the ribs are mended at last, but the ankle not quite yet. But at least I can put my foot on the ground and walk with a cane, like the other day.

_ Just don't do stunts like last time, Sam grinned.

_ No, I certainly won't. I've had enough of hobbling around and can't wait to be back on my feet.

_ Well, that's fine, Grim said as Briggs and Charlie entered the room and grabbed their mugs of coffee. You'll be able to come with us, Sam has the head of a mole to bust.

_ You found him? Briggs asked, astonished.

_ Yes, Grim smiled. I tracked Blanchard's movements thanks to his fake papers and noticed that he went to a restaurant in Bethesda right after each stealing. And I saw his contact there.

_ Who's this bastard?

_ Rick Tomlinson.

_ Ha! Kestrel snarled. The one who insisted to feed me during my stay in Langley. Well, he sure as hell knows how to play a comedy, I would never have guessed it was him!

_ Me neither, Briggs said, eyebrows knitted, but I hope you'll let me come too, Sam.

_ He'll be all yours, Briggs, Sam smiled wickedly. I was thinking about a nice chat, with just you, me and the scumbag. And the poor agent Loskov, with his weak ankle, could lose his balance on the recording system, what a pity it'd be.

Around the table evil grins were spreading, and Grim couldn't help hers. Revenge would be sweet indeed. As she rose from the table, Kestrel asked her:

_ Any news of Piotr Czech?

_ I haven't checked yet, she said. Let's do it before leaving.

The team headed to the control room, and Grim switched on the SMI. And sure enough, a message on the secure line was waiting to be read. She opened the file, and saw a photo showing four men, bound head to toe and unconscious, on the floor of some truck or van. A newspaper next to the man recognized as Kandinski showed the date of the very day they were living: May 3rd. Under the photo, a cyrillic sentence was written, and she turned towards Kestrel. The ops, smiling broadly, read it and translated:

_ Hope a few bumps on the head don't count as harm.

_ Well, Sam smiled, at least we know your ex-comrade is efficient. One problem solved.

_ Yep, Briggs nodded grimly. Now, we shall deal with our traitor.

Briggs drove them to Langley. Even Charlie was there, as part of the team that had be treated like scum by Zeller, and was grinning broadly. Sam had phoned Zeller, warning him of their arrival and asking him to gather his team in the conference room for a "debrief". Now, seated next to her, he looked relaxed enough, but she could see the anger just boiling under the surface. In the passenger seat, Kestrel, cane at his side, had his usual poker face on, but a faint smile was playing on his lips. And behind the wheel, Briggs was focused, intent on his job.

They soon arrived at the CIA facility, and slowly walked to the conference room, following Kestrel's hobbling pace. Grim noticed that the two ops wore matching dark faces, and she knew they wore their usual professional expressions, the ones she usually couldn't see from her control room. Sam's expression was also grim and intense, and she was happy not to be in CIA shoes. She'd have hated being the target of these three formidable men.

When she entered the conference room, right behind Sam, she saw all four CIA agents rising to greet them. She shook hands with all of them, masking her contempt towards Tomlinson, and took a seat, the team doing the same. Then Zeller started:

_ Thanks for coming. I hear that you have news about the leaks and the mole, that's great. But first, I'm quite concerned about your state, agent Loskov. I hope it's not a lingering effect of what you experienced here.

She saw the shadow of a smile playing on Kestrel's lips as he said calmly:

_ As a matter of fact, it is. I broke my ankle while falling in a staircase. The doc said the dehydration had weakened me so much I could've broken my neck and died.

Zeller looked at a loss for words, and she suppressed a wicked smile as an amused gleam crossed Sam's eyes. The supervisory agent cleared his throat and said with a less confident voice:

_ I'm sorry to hear it. But let's get back to business. Mr Fisher? About what happened in Lyon...

_ You shouldn't have been there, Sam cut him drily. That matter is closed, and it served your team right. But I'd like to know why you trapped Blanchard's team in Iceland, and where they are now.

Zeller shot an annoyed glance at Sam, but soon dropped his gaze before the Splinter Cell's seething expression, and said:

_ We've been following them for a long time because they're linked to the Chinese mafia in Los Angeles, and they smuggle weapons in California. It's just a coincidence, I swear. Now they're here in Langley, you'll be able to interrogate them if you want.

_ I most certainly will, Sam nodded.

_ Now, can you tell us who's the mole?

_ Yes, Sam said calmly. We can. But I want to get things straight first.

He fully faced Zeller and said, locking eyes with him:

_ We'll show you our evidence right away, unlike you the other day, but I will interrogate the mole with agent Briggs here, and only the two of us. We'll use one of your interrogation rooms, and the rest of my team will watch, and your team too if you want. No interference, no complaining. What is at stake here is bigger than the CIA alone. Do I make myself clear?

Zeller swallowed, but he quickly agreed.

_ As you wish, Mr Fisher. You have the upper hand on this matter. We won't interfere, you have my word.

_ Briggs? Sam said.

Without a word, the ops got up and strode towards Tomlinson and smashed him on the table before the guy could protest. Then Briggs twisted his arm in a lock, making him rise to his feet, and said:

_ Show's over, asshole. Now's the time to sing.

_ Wait! Tomlinson protested weakly, wincing in pain. I don't know... what you're talking about.

_ First mistake, Briggs growled. Don't you take me or my team for fools. And it has better be your last mistake before I lash out on you, you motherfucker.

_ Mr Fisher? Zeller ventured, looking shocked. The evidence...?

Grim extracted the USB key she had prepared with all the files and handed it to him. Then she got up and followed Sam and Briggs, flanking a trembling Tomlinson, to a nearby interrogation room which an angry-looking Dawson was indicating them. Then she, Kestrel and Charlie entered the observation room and looked through the two-way mirror as Briggs forced on a steel chair the wimp Tomlinson had become. Kestrel staggered on his good foot and cane, and Zeller, who had entered the room behind them, asked him:

_ Would you like to sit down, agent Loskov?

_ Please, Kestrel nodded, swaying more than ever.

Grim saw him discreetly winking at her and, before he could grab Charlie's or Dawson's outstretched hands, he stumbled and fell sideways, right onto the console complete with computer, recording system, cameras control and digital command booth, smashing the whole lot of them under his body. The racket it made attracted Sam's attention, and he asked loudly through the mirror, playing dumb like a Hollywood actor:

_ What the hell is happening over there? Everybody okay?

Grim hastily crouched next to Kestrel and asked him loudly:

_ Oh my God! Are you all right?

_ Goddamn ankle, he muttered angrily, accepting Dawson's hand to get back to his good foot as Zeller brought in a chair, looking furious. Hurts like mad. I'm sorry, he added to Zeller's profit.

Charlie bent over the broken gear and said:

_ Remind me how many pounds you're hosting? You broke all things, agent Loskov! It'll cost us a fortune to replace all that!

_ Tab will be on us, agent Zeller, Grim said apologetically, forcing down the rising laughter before Zeller's swelling face. You'll send us the bill.

Zeller only nodded and turned to the intercom, speaking to Sam who was still waiting behind the mirror, frowning.

_ Everything all right. Agent Loskov smashed our recording equipment by falling on it, but he's okay.

Sam shook his head, then turned towards Tomlinson. Briggs hadn't flinched, and Grim saw with satisfaction that he leaned on Tomlinson with a very menacing expression on, and started:

_ So, Rick. Tell us about your friends.

_ What... what friends? the agent stammered, sweating heavily. I... I don't...

Sam suddenly slammed his hands on the steel table, making Tomlinson flinch hard and cower in fear, and he yelled:

_ Don't you try to mess around with us! We know you gave the intel to Blanchard! We saw you in the restaurant in Bethesda! Like Briggs said, the show's over, Tomlinson! Spill!

_ Okay! Okay! I'll tell you everything!

Grim smirked as Tomlinson, shaking with fear under Sam's imperious stare, started to spill his guts.

_ It's true I stole the intel! I gave it to Blanchard, and he passed it to the MSS and the foreign agencies. I was following Leblanc's orders.

_ Explain to the audience who's Leblanc, Sam said seriously, pacing the room.

_ He's the leader of Meggido, Tomlinson quivered. Even in his prison cell in Paris, he controls what's left of the organization and pulls the strings.

_ And why are you working for him? Briggs asked him darkly.

_ He works with the MSS, and they want to seize power. But I don't know anything else, I swear! Only Blanchard knew about their schemes!

Sam laughed joylessly as Briggs bent over Tomlinson, saying in a loud whisper:

_ You'd better not play dumb, Rick. Sam here isn't the most patient man.

_ But I really...

Swift as a snake, Sam grabbed Tomlinson's wrist and twisted it, and the CIA agent howled in pain, doubling over. On his chair, Kestrel chuckled and said appreciatively:

_ Nice one! That lock is particularly painful.

_ But... Zeller started, sweating heavily.

_ If you can't stand it you can get out, Kestrel turned towards him, a harsh tone in his voice. No interference, you swore.

_ Yes, but...

_ Just shut up, agent Zeller! Kestrel snapped, turning back towards the mirror. Like you said not so long ago, don't be a wimp.

Grim couldn't suppress her amused smile this time, and she rejoiced at seeing the discomfort in Zeller's and his team's eyes, while in the room across them Tomlinson was still yelling in pain. Then Sam let go of his wrist, and the mole clutched it with his other hand, moaning in pain. Briggs asked him:

_ So, you were telling us all about Leblanc's schemes, Rick, and why you're working for him. We're listening.

_ I... I needed money... I don't earn enough for a living with the CIA... so when Leblanc contacted me three years ago and offered me a million bucks, I just couldn't resist. All I had to do was keeping an eye on eventual inquiries on Meggido, but none came. An easy job, until Leblanc gave me orders to steal some intel six months ago, using Blanchard as the middleman.

_ And why have you suddenly decided to betray your country, Rick? Briggs asked him menacingly.

_ It wasn't meant to reach the MSS! Tomlinson cried, sweating heavily and still following Sam calmly pacing the room, circling him. Blanchard was supposed to give the intel to the foreign agencies, point blank!

_ And you really think we're going to eat all this bullshit? Sam rumbled, stopping in front of him. Are you so naïve or stupid?

_ I swear I didn't know anything about China!

Grim watched the scene before her eyes, but something was bothering her. Tomlinson didn't strike her as a good spy, more like a brainless pawn. Is he the easy culprit? she dimly wondered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she registered movement from Daniels and Dawson, both on each side of her, but she didn't understand what was happening before it was too late. In a flash, she called out Kestrel as Daniels grabbed her around the neck, a blade firmly pressed against her throat:

_ Kestrel!

But the ops was already in motion. Just as Dawson struck him in the back with a combat knife, he swiftly rose and grabbed his chair. In the whirling movement that followed, he smashed the chair onto Dawson who flew across the room, crashing on the mirror. The CIA agent didn't move again, but Grim saw Kestrel staggering on his feet, his eyes half-closed. On the other side of the mirror, Sam had turned and was frowning, but he couldn't guess what was happening, and by the time he would realize it it would be too late. Zeller and Charlie were hesitating, but Daniels said in Grim's ear:

_ One move and I slit her throat!

In front of her, Kestrel suddenly coughed, and to Grim's horror he was coughing blood. Then as Daniels retreated to the door behind them, dragging her along, Kestrel fell to his knees, and Grim saw with anguish Dawson's knife, jutting out from Kestrel's back, and the blood stain that was growing by the second on his shirt.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Kestrel felt rage and pain, but most of all an intense concentration. He assessed the situation in a split second, and saw all odds were against them. Grim was being held hostage, and that Daniels traitor wouldn't hesitate to cut her throat, he could see it in her mad eyes. Zeller and Charlie were helpless, and Sam and Briggs too far to help and still unaware of the situation. So he decided to twist things in his favour.

He staggered on his feet and feigned to be badly hurt. Discreetly he bit hard his tongue, and as he started to cough he spat out blood as to pretend having been struck in the lungs. He could see that Grim was buying it, and he felt bad about it, but he had to save her.

As he fell on his knees, he surreptitiously took out his Ka-Bar, which he had concealed in the splint around his throbbing ankle, and within a microsecond took aim and threw the knife. He had never been a good knife thrower, but his best friend Ivan had been a master in that domain, so he had had lessons. And this time, he knew that Ivan's advice would help him protect his control director and friend.

Daniels, who had let her guard down and was only intent on keeping Grim under control as she was steering her towards the door, received the knife straight in her throat, and she released her grip on Grim's neck. Kestrel jumped to his feet, oblivious to the pain surging in his back and ankle, and tackled her, pushing her away from Grim who screamed:

_ Sam! Help!

Kestrel grabbed Daniels' knife and threw it away from her, and both of them fell heavily on the floor as Sam slammed the door open. Kestrel, lying on his left side, looked at Daniels and instantly knew she was dying: blood was spurting in thick streams from her throat, and her eyes were slowly dying out. But he himself, although wounded, wasn't too badly hurt, he knew it. And just as Sam and Grim bent over him, he heard Daniels exhaling her last breath, and the woman's blue eyes became empty and glassy. His Ka-Bar was still planted in her throat.

_ Zeller, call a doctor! Sam yelled, kneeling next to him. Kestrel! Are you okay?

_ I have been better, the ops admitted, but I've been worse too. I'm not going to die just yet, Sam.

_ That's good, Sam said, sounding relieved, because in no way will you die on me. But you have a knife planted in your back.

_ Yes, I feel it, Kestrel winced as he felt a cloth pressed againt his wound. The blade's been stopped by one of my ribs, it's just my luck.

_ Kestrel, he heard Grim's quivering voice, I thought you were... I thought you were dying...

_ I'm sorry about it, he said as Briggs' hurried footsteps came closer. I had no choice, it was my only solution to grab my knife.

_ You saved me, Grim said, clearly in shock. You killed her and saved me.

_ My honor, he said calmly. Sam, she needs you. Let Briggs tend to me if he's around.

_ I'm here, mate, the ops said, taking Sam's place on the floor next to him.

_ Check on Dawson, Kestrel asked him. I hope he's just unconscious.

_ Charlie? Briggs said.

_ Right there, the tech said. What do I do?

_ Here, Briggs said, take the cloth and press it hard against his back. And be careful not to touch the blade.

As Charlie took the cloth, he accidentally hit the jutting knife, and Kestrel jumped with a grunt as a white-hot jolt of pain rushed in his back.

_ Sorry, sorry, Kestrel! Charlie stuttered, obviously freaking out. Are you okay?

_ It's okay, Charlie, Kestrel exhaled slowly, closing his eyes to stop the spinning in his head. Just don't touch the blade, please.

_ What happened? Why did they attack us?

_ I guess they are MSS moles too. Tomlinson couldn't have been the leader, he's too simple-minded. And he was probably going to inform us on his accomplices. They were done for, and they knew it.

_ Kestrel? Briggs said, resuming his position next to his teammate. Dawson is alive, but he seems badly injured. Broken spine, I'd say.

_ Чёрт! _(Shit!)_ I didn't want to break his spine! I hope you're wrong, мой друг. _(my friend)_

 ___ I hope I'm not, Briggs growled suddenly. These bastards were about to kill you and Grim, if I heard correctly!

_ You heard correctly, Charlie said as Kestrel's head was spinning faster and faster. And I agree with you, they got what they deserved.

_ Can you grab my knife, Charlie, please? Kestrel asked him with a painful sigh.

_ Where is it? Oh! Oh no, I can't...

_ I'll do it, Briggs said.

In a blur, Kestrel saw Briggs' hand gripping his Ka-Bar and pulling it out of Daniels' throat, wiping the blood out on the woman's shirt. He heard Briggs say:

_ Lucky you had your knife, mate. Where was it? You didn't make the security gate's alarm blaring when we passed through.

_ Hid it in the splint around my ankle, Kestrel explained, hearing his voice becoming weaker. Had that hunch that I would need it.

_ Hey, mate! Briggs shook his shoulder lightly. Stay awake!

_ I'm still there, Kestrel said, but his voice came out as a murmur, his sight blurring fast.

_ The doc's just coming, Kestrel, Charlie said hurriedly, sounding panic-stricken. Stay with us!

_ How's Grim?

_ She's in Sam's arms, three meters away, Briggs said, sounding concerned. She's okay, mate.

_ Good, Kestrel whispered, hearing some people running in his back.

_ Agent Loskov, an unknown voice resonated in front of him. Can you hear me?

_ Yes, he murmured, trying to focus on the blurred figure crouching in front of him.

_ Good. I want you to tell me your name, date and place of birth and your hobbies, please.

Kestrel smiled faintly as he felt some new and strong hands on his back. He knew the CIA doc only wanted to keep him awake, but he was ready to talk this time.

_ My name's Mikhail Andreyevitch Loskov. I was born in Novgorod on the 7th of August, 1982.

He heard shuffling people around him, and felt himself rising a little, then being gently laid on some stretcher. The doc said:

_ Please continue, agent Loskov. So you're Russian-born?

_ Yes, Kestrel said as the stretcher was lifted and he was carried away in the corridors. I became American two years ago.

_ That's good. And what are your hobbies?

_ I like reading, and playing soccer.

_ You like soccer? What's your favourite team?

_ The Saint Petersburg Zenit, he whispered as they went outside towards what looked like an ambulance in his fuzzy sight.

_ Really? Did you watch the final of the Cup of Russia yesterday?

_ It was yesterday?

_ Yes. You don't know who won?

_ No, he said, a little disappointed as he was hoisted into the van. Tell me.

_ Your team won, agent Loskov. They beat the CSKA Moscow 4 to 1.

_ How do you know?

_ I support the CSKA, the voice said, a little crestfallen, bringing a smile on Kestrel's lips as the ambulance started to move. I'm doctor Korjev, and my parents are from Moscow.

_ I'm sorry for you, doc.

_ Thank you, agent Loskov. Your colleague is here with you.

_ I'm coming with you, mate, Briggs' voice rose behind his back. I'm here to prevent you from dying, Sam's orders.

_ I don't doubt it, Kestrel wanted to say, but he heard only a mumble coming out of his lips. He heard movement near his head and felt a hand gently slapping his cheek as the voice of the CIA doctor rose again:

_ Agent Loskov, stay awake! How old are you?

_ Thirty-three, he whispered feebly.

_ Good, the doc said. Where do you live?

_ In Baltimore.

_ Do you like the city?

But this time, Kestrel's eyes blurred so much, his head spun so fast and his back ached so painfully that he felt himself falling through the stretcher, his conscience slipping into the oblivion he knew so well, and he wondered if he was really going to die. And he felt despair at the very idea of dying before he could give his bone marrow to Sam's grandson, and decided to cling to life. Even if he was losing consciousness, he would hold on to life at all costs. James was counting on him.

* * *

_ Kestrel! Answer me! Kestrel!

_ He lost consciousness, agent Briggs, doctor Korjev told the worried ops across Kestrel. He's remarkably resilient, I can tell you. Don't worry, he's not going to die, but his adrenalin has worn out. The bleeding has stopped, it's good. Now we'll just remove the knife, and he should be all right very soon.

_ You sure about it, doc? Briggs asked, stressed out.

_ Positive, the tiny doc stated calmly.

_ Okay, he whispered as the ambulance reached the Bethesda hospital, sirens wailing.

He hopped down the van and stayed next to Kestrel's stretcher as his close friend was whisked away to the emergency unit. He was soon joined by Dr Collins, looking grim and jaded.

_ Hi, doc! Briggs said as they were striding briskly through the double doors.

_ Good morning, agent Briggs. Tell me, does he get hurt on purpose just to annoy me?

_ No, doc, Briggs said as the two docs shook hands. He saved Grim's life.

_ Well, in that case, I can't say anything.

_ Please, wait here, a newcomer told Briggs and the docs, striding in front of them.

_ We're doctors, Dr Korjev told the guy, obviously a male nurse, and the guy let them pass.

So Briggs, left on his own, looked around him in the hall and went to sit on an armchair in a corner. He took out his smartphone and called Sam.

_ Fisher.

_ Sam, it's Briggs.

_ How's he?

_ Unconscious, but the doc assured me he wouldn't die. We're in Bethesda. I'll just wait for now.

_ Okay, Sam said, sounding relieved. Dawson is being sent there too. Could you keep an eye on him? I'd like you to interrogate him when he's awake.

_ I'll try, but you know doctors.

_ I know, but we have orders from Caldwell. She contacted me and want info ASAP. So to hell with doctors!

_ What about our French friend, then?

_ Leblanc will be shipped in the first plane to the States.

_ Really?

Briggs was bewildered. It seemed incredible to him that the French authorities had accepted to hand him over so easily. But Sam said, concern in his voice:

_ Really. They've been aware of him communicating with old friends and preparing a large-scale operation, and they can't do anything more about it. So our extradition request came as a gift from heaven. Lucky us.

_ And who'll be dealing with him?

_ Us. He'll be locked up with Sadiq.

Briggs stayed silent, and took a deep breath. Sadiq was being detained in a top-range security complex since his capture more than three years ago, and the idea of seeing him again sent waves of revulsion up his throat. But they needed an out-of-the-way place to interrogate Leblanc, so Briggs could understand his boss' choice. At last he said:

_ Okay, Sam. How's Grim?

_ She's calmer, but still in shock. She really thought Kestrel was dying, and now she's worried out of her mind.

_ Understandable enough, Briggs said, watching Dawson appearing on a stretcher, surrounded by an army of paramedics and two CIA agents in fatigues, and quickly whisked away in the emergency unit. Our friend Dawson has just arrived.

_ Good. Is Dr Collins with you?

_ He's with Kestrel, but he's not far.

_ He'll help you with Dawson's interrogation. And keep me posted. I'll resume our interrogation of Tomlinson, but call me when you have news.

_ Will do, Sam.

Briggs hung up and rose as Drs Collins and Korjev emerged from the emergency unit, chatting calmly. He strode towards them and asked:

_ How's he?

_ He's all right, agent Briggs, Dr Collins said, facing him. The knife has been removed, and the wound isn't bothersome. In fact, it's already closing. Tomorrow it will only be a scar.

_ That son of a bitch is lucky, Briggs said, relief exhaling through his voice. And gifted.

_ That's certain, Dr Korjev said. The blade hit one of his ribs, but a mere inch lower and he would've been struck straight in the heart.

_ Yes, Dr Collins smiled faintly, but agent Kestrel is very lucky and resilient.

_ That I saw, Dr Korjev said. Well, I'm off to Langley.

_ Thanks for everything, Briggs told him.

The CIA doctor simply smiled then walked away. Briggs turned back to their doctor.

_ Sam told me you would help me to interrogate Dawson.

_ The CIA agent, Dr Collins approved. Yes, I'll go and find info on his state. But in the meantime, you can see agent Kestrel, if you want.

_ Sure, I want!

_ Come with me, then.

Briggs, thoughts swirling in his head, followed the doc in the long corridors, then they reached a simple door and Dr Collins entered without knocking. Briggs came in and saw his teammate, still lying on his left side, on a bed. His bare chest was heavily bandaged underneath the sheets, and he was still out of it. But at least he was less pale, Briggs noticed with relief. Next to him, the doc said:

_ I'll leave you with him, and I'll come back to tell you about agent Dawson as soon as possible.

_ Yes, thanks, doc.

The doc left, and Briggs grabbed the chair next to the wall, dragging it next to his teammate. He carefully checked on his friend, but the docs hadn't lied. Kestrel was breathing calmly and steadily, looking in peace and painfree. So Briggs decided to call Grim. She answered almost immediately, her voice ragged with panic:

_ Briggs? How's he?

_ He's all right, Grim. He's resting. I'm right next to him, and the doc told me his wound is already closing.

On the bed, Kestrel started to stir, slowly opening his eyes, and Briggs added, smiling:

_ He's waking up.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Sam felt anger boiling in his veins as he faced Tomlinson again. He had just heard Grim, sounding far better and relieved, telling him through the intercom that Kestrel was okay and awake, and he was immensely relieved too. But now he was going to ask Tomlinson for explanations about what had happened, and he had burned all his patience off. The mole was clearly seeing his raging temper, because he was cowering in fear, trembling on his chair with his hands cuffed to the steel table.

Sam had refused Zeller's offer to postpone the interrogation, and also refused the supervisory agent's presence, saying that he was fed up with the CIA and they had better start mopping up their shit straight away. And he had asked Grim to give the go to Voron, the CSIS and the Mossad to arrest their moles. But now, he was on his own, like in good old time, facing a despicable source of intel, and he really needed info. So he started:

_ All right, Rick. After what your two friends have done here to my team, I have no patience left for you. So you're gonna tell me all I need to know, or I swear you'll tell me anyway but through a lot of pain. So, how Dawson and Daniels have been involved, exactly?

_ Dawson was like me, Tomlinson said with a quivering voice, he needed money. He's a gambler, had debts over his head. Leblanc's offer was his salvation, and he had to tail Zeller, monitor his moves and investigations, prevent him from approaching Meggido stuff. That's why he kept an eye on Blanchard and his merc friends. They're dead, Dawson killed them right before you arrived.

Sam clenched his fists in fury, and shot a glare he hoped was furious enough towards the mirror, to Zeller. Hopefully the guy would send someone to check on the mercenaries. Tomlinson went on:

_ Daniels was our chief. She's been a MSS mole for six years, biding her time. She was with them out of personal beliefs, not money like us. She stole a lot of intel, but discreetly enough so it never raised any eyebrow.

_ Then it's all the better she's dead, Sam rumbled in satisfaction. Now, what about Leblanc's schemes?

_ I told you I don't know anything about them! Tomlinson said in alarm. I'm not important enough, they never trusted me with the info!

_ I don't believe you, Sam said calmly, walking slowly behind his cowering prey.

_ It's the truth, I swear! Tomlinson cried, sweating heavily. Daniels knew, and Dawson knows too, but not I! They always said it was better for my sake! And as long as I received the money, I didn't ask questions!

Sam abruptly slammed Tomlinson's head on the steel table and was satisfied to hear the sound of his nose breaking. Tomlinson howled in pain, blood streaming out of his nose in a thick pool on the table, and Sam yelled:

_ Don't you make fun of me another time! You're a fucking CIA special agent, not a window cleaner! You're not as stupid as you're letting on! Now speak before I break all your fingers one by one!

_ Okay! Okay! Tomlinson stammered in a thick voice, blood still flowing out of his nostrils. I know something! They're preparing a coup in a South American country!

_ Why? Sam growled.

_ Leblanc wants to destabilize the oil production, create a crisis. If he succeeds in bringing to power one of his men in an oil-producing country, he wants to stifle the economy of rich countries like the USA by creating a frenzy for oil.

Sam thought about it. It matched Blanchard's last words: Venezuela and oil. Sam knew Venezuela was a rather small country but with huge oil reserves, about twenty-five percent of the world's estimated reserves. Making a coup there would indeed generate an oil crisis, and after the Blacklist events, he couldn't allow that to happen. He bent over Tomlinson again and asked him in a dangerous whisper:

_ Who's preparing the coup?

_ Daniels and Dawson were in charge. I only know that some American ops are involved, but I don't have any specifics.

_ What do you mean, American ops? Sam asked, frowning, lead filling his guts.

_ Dawson corrupted some commander in an elite force, and he'll send a dozen ops in Venezuela to kill the president Perez to help the rebels.

_ Who? What elite force? Sam shouted, making the mole jump on his chair.

_ I... I don't know! Tomlinson stuttered, panic-stricken. I swear I don't know! Dawson isn't the sharing type, he wouldn't tell me or Daniels, although she had insisted much to know.

Sam saw in Tomlinson's eyes that this time the guy was telling the truth. But the news were a catastrophe. Before leaving he told the CIA agent grimly:

_ You're gonna regret betraying your country, Tomlinson. I'll make sure you'll be with drug dealers in jail.

He strode out of the room, oblivious of the mole squeaking in fear, and went next door to the observation room. He joined Grim and Charlie, ignoring Zeller, and they exchanged appalled looks. Finally Grim said in dismay:

_ We must find this commander and his ops, and prevent them from killing Perez.

_ Dawson knows, Charlie said. Sam...

_ I know, Sam said, his smartphone already in his hand.

He hurriedly dialed Briggs' number and called his ops, who soon answered:

_ Briggs.

_ It's Sam. Is Dawson awake?

_ Not yet. He's in surgery, Kestrel really broke his spine. He'll be paralyzed from the waist down.

_ Serves him right. When he's out of surgery, interrogate him immediately, while he's still under the effects of anesthesia. Ask him about the coup in Venezuela, when it'll happen and the American ops that will be sent to kill the president Perez.

_ You're kidding me! Briggs exclaimed loudly.

_ Unfortunately not, Sam said seriously. It's urgent, Briggs! Call me as soon as you have info.

_ Will do, Sam.

_ How's Kestrel?

_ Already bored. His ankle is mended at last, and his back has stopped aching. He's fighting with Dr Collins to exit the hospital after lunch.

_ Yeah, it's lunchtime, Sam realized as his stomach rumbled. Well, tell Dr Collins to let him out. We'll need you both in the Paladin this afternoon, and Kestrel can lie down in the infirmary if the doc wants. In the meantime, have lunch, we'll do the same.

_ Copy.

Sam hung up and saw Zeller next to the mirror, looking dumbfounded. He couldn't help the anger rising in his guts and said loudly:

_ Thank you very much, agent Zeller! Three moles in your team, no less, and preparing a coup in Venezuela with American ops! What efficiency!

_ Mr Fisher, I...

_ Just shut up, Zeller! Sam snapped violently. I've had enough of your lot! Take care of Tomlinson, don't let him escape or get killed. And find all you can on the political situation in Venezuela, I want info in three hours. And don't screw things up this time!

And Sam, followed by Grim and Charlie, strode out of the CIA facility, rage burning his lungs. He hoped that Briggs would obtain the intel from Dawson, and most of all that it was not too late.

* * *

When Briggs hung up with Sam, he was still in Kestrel's room, next to his listening teammate. And he saw that the ex-Voron ops was as much in shock as him. Knowing that American special ops were involved in Leblanc's schemes sent shivers down his spine, but he had some intel to collect. So he quickly called Dr Collins, and asked him:

_ Doc, it's Briggs again. Is Dawson out of surgery?

_ It's almost finished, agent Briggs, the doc sighed. Why? Is there an emergency?

_ Actually yes, Briggs said. We must know which American special forces will help Meggido for a coup.

_ I see, the doc said after a few seconds of silence. Well, agent Dawson will probably start to stir in half an hour, so you should eat in the meantime. I'll ask a friend of mine to send you meal trays immediately.

_ Thanks, doc. Exactly how many friends have you got in all the hospitals of the US?

_ You wouldn't believe me if I told you, agent Briggs.

Briggs half-smiled as the line went dead, and he exchanged a dark look with Kestrel, saying:

_ You'd better be on your feet very soon, mate. I guess we'll have some action in a short time.

_ That I can easily believe, Kestrel nodded. Don't worry about me, мой друг _(my friend)_. After a good lunch, I'll feel much better.

_ Good isn't the word I'd choose to describe a meal tray in a hospital, Briggs said, but it's better than nothing.

Somebody knocked on the door, and a woman entered the room, carrying two meal trays. Briggs helped her putting them on the small table, and Kestrel and he quickly ate the passable food. Then Briggs went downstairs to the shop and bought a T-shirt for Kestrel, who had had his shirt ruined by the knife cut and the blood. When he handed him the black T-shirt, Kestrel shot him an incredulous look.

_ Really? "I love New York"?

_ It was either that or "My other car is a pony", Briggs smirked.

_ I see, Kestrel said, shaking his head but putting on the T-shirt nevertheless.

Briggs grabbed his trousers and trainers and gave them to his friend, and soon Kestrel was sitting on his bed, fully clothed and looking alert. They waited for ten minutes, then Dr Collins entered the room and said simply:

_ Follow me.

Briggs and Kestrel were led through the usual maze of corridors and double doors to a small room, guarded by the two CIA agents. In there Briggs saw a lone bed surrounded by various machines and screens. And on the bed, Dawson was lying, looking asleep. Dr Collins indicated imperiously the only chair to Kestrel who sat with a sigh, then went right next to Dawson and said:

_ Agent Dawson, one of your colleagues have some questions for you.

Briggs approached the bed and saw Dawson's eyes fluttering, but the mole was having trouble at keeping them open. Good, he thought, the agent wouldn't be able to resist.

_ Agent Dawson, I need to know about the operation in Venezuela. When will it happen?

_ On the 10th, Dawson murmured. 10 am.

_ Okay. And who's the American commander leading the attack on the president Perez?

_ Mancini.

_ Which special forces?

_ Navy Seals.

Briggs shot an apprehensive look at Kestrel. When Sam would learn about some traitors in his old army group, he would go berserk. But he focused on the present moment and asked Dawson again:

_ Where will Perez be attacked?

_ In Caracas.

_ In the presidential palace?

_ No. Alejandro Otero museum.

_ There's an exhibit? Perez will be there?

_ Yes.

_ Who'll take his place?

_ General Horacio.

_ Will the army follow him?

_ Half of it.

_ Will there be a civil war?

_ Yes. But Horacio... will receive the weapons in time.

_ Leblanc has sent him weapons?

_ Yes.

_ How?

_ Boat, Dawson said, more and more feebly.

_ The name of the boat, Briggs asked him urgently, knowing he hadn't much time left.

_ Nicaragua Ciùdad, Dawson whispered before falling asleep.

_ Doc? Briggs asked softly.

_ He's asleep, Dr Collins said, checking the mole's vitals. If you have more questions, they'll have to wait a little, I'm afraid.

_ We don't have time, Briggs said. Let's go back to the Paladin. Can you drive us?

_ Absolutely, agent Briggs.

_ Then let's go.

Briggs noticed with satisfaction that Kestrel was easily striding next to him, his ankle was clearly fully mended, and it was all the better. The three men hastily went to the parking lot and piled up in the doc's car. As the doc made the Ford Mustang shooting out on the road, Briggs called Sam.

_ Briggs, you have news?

_ Very bad ones, Sam, Briggs answered grimly. But I'd rather tell you when we face each other.

Silence fell on the line, and Briggs could tell that Sam was dreading the news. At last his boss exhaled, fury constricting his voice:

_ The Seals.

_ Yes.

The line was abruptly cut, and Briggs grimaced. He hoped Sam wasn't currently destroying the SMI as they were going to need it. Behind him on the backseat, Kestrel asked him:

_ He guessed about the Seals?

_ Yes.

_ Then let's hope we'll still have computers to work on when we arrive, Kestrel said calmly.

Briggs didn't have anything to add to this, so they drove in silence to Baltimore's airport, the doc speeding like a maniac. Then he parked on their private parking lot, and Briggs ran to the Paladin, Kestrel right behind him. And when they entered the control room, Sam was indeed busy smashing up furniture, yelling in fury. A few meters away from him, Grim and Charlie looked anxious, and although Charlie was holding a gas grenade, he was clearly afraid of throwing it on his boss.

Briggs shot a quick look at Kestrel, he could use his teammate's extraordinary strength. And Kestrel understood immediately. He strode behind Sam and in a swift movement grasped him round his waist, pinning his arms against his chest. Sam howled in anger and thrashed around, but Briggs saw Kestrel tightening his grip, his forehead sweating heavily, and Sam couldn't move anymore. Then Briggs came right in front of his boss and slapped him, yelling:

_ Stop it, Sam!

Abruptly, Sam stopped fighting against Kestrel's strong grip, and he looked straight into Briggs' eyes, who shuddered. Sam's stare was so intense and furious he was very intimidating, and Briggs said apologetically:

_ Sorry, Sam. But we need our leader with a clear head on his shoulders. I know the strain is heavy, but please focus.

Sam inhaled sharply, and growled:

_ Kestrel, let me go.

_ Not yet, Sam, Kestrel said, still holding his boss firmly. I can feel the tension in your muscles and you're shaking, you're not yourself yet. Relax and take a deep breath. As soon as you're cool, I'll let you go.

_ That's an order! Sam spat, a wild gleam in his eyes. Do it now!

_ No, Kestrel said adamantly as Dr Collins entered the room, looking bewildered. And you'd better do as I tell you, boss. I can hold you like that all day long if I have to.

Sam started to thrash around again, beside himself with fury, and Briggs wondered what they could do. But Kestrel visibly had an idea, because he succeeded in lifting Sam a little and dragging him along in the corridor, towards the living area. Briggs followed them, Grim, the doc and Charlie behind him. Kestrel kicked open the bathroom door and went in, Sam still fighting against his vise grip, and Briggs finally understood. He turned the tap of one of the showers, making sure it was cold water, then got out of the way as Kestrel shoved his boss in the shower stall.

Sam fell in the stall and was soon drenched from head to foot. But the cold water seemed to do the trick, and Briggs saw him look calmer and back in his right mind. So he went to turn the tap off, but Sam said:

_ Hold on a few more seconds.

So Briggs waited as Sam closed his eyes and raised his head under the shower head, letting the cold water flowing on his face. And after about ten seconds, Sam bent his head and said:

_ That's good now.

Briggs shut down the water and held out his hand for his boss who grabbed it, and the ops pulled him to his feet. Sam looked better, but he was still seething with rage, Briggs could see it in his eyes. The Splinter Cell faced him and said:

_ Thanks.

Briggs nodded and Sam turned towards Kestrel, saying:

_ You disobeyed me.

_ Yes, I did, Kestrel said calmly. I cannot accept to obey orders from a man who's not himself, Sam.

Sam glared at him for long seconds, and Briggs was afraid that Kestrel would be fired. But at long last, Sam nodded and said with a half-smile:

_ Good job, Kestrel. Just don't do that ever again.

Kestrel simply nodded, poker-faced. Sam held out his hand, and the ops shook it. Then the Splinter Cell said:

_ Let me put on dry clothes, then we'll work on your intel. See you in five minutes.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

While putting on a dry polo shirt and fatigues, and changing his soaked boots for his trainers, Sam was fuming. He was furious about the situation, and the news of some traitors among the Navy Seals were clearly a hard blow, but he was also furious after Kestrel for having thrown him in a shower stall under cold water. But he had to admit that it had allowed him to calm down and focus, even though it had been harsh.

He grabbed his smartphone and walked briskly to the control room, where the team was waiting for him. Only Kestrel wasn't there, and before Sam could ask Grim said:

_ Kestrel's in the infirmary, Sam. Dr Collins insisted to check his wound in the back, he feared the stitches had cracked due to his efforts to restrain you.

Sam nodded, vaguely ashamed and concerned, but his anger was the most powerful emotion he was experiencing right now. So he strode to the SMI, glad not to have smashed it like the desk and two computers lying in pieces on the floor, and asked Briggs:

_ So, what did Dawson say?

_ The coup will happen on the 10th at 10 am, the ops answered seriously. The Navy Seals, under some commander Mancini's orders, will kill Perez at the Alejandro Otero museum, and General Horacio will seize power. Half the army is behind him, so Leblanc is sending him weapons to help him for the civil war. They are in a boat called Nicaragua Ciùdad.

Grim and Charlie set to work at once, and Sam said, appalled:

_ I still can't believe some Seals are traitors. How will we prove it and neutralize them?

_ Maybe they're just following orders, Sam, Briggs said. It's very likely only this Mancini is with Meggido.

_ I want his file, Sam rumbled.

_ On it, Grim told him. Give me a minute.

_ Charlie?

_ Tracking the boat, the tech answered darkly.

_ Okay, Sam said, concentrating hard. So how do we prevent the Seals from going to Caracas in a week?

_ By calling the President, Briggs answered. She'll rouse the staff, and they'll stop the mission.

_ Let's do it, then.

But the SMI beeped loudly, and Grim hastily bent over it.

_ It's a call, looks like Kestrel's friend's number.

_ Call Kestrel! Sam said loudly.

_ I'm here, Sam, Kestrel said behind his back, running to the console. Answer the call.

Sam touched the green key, and Kestrel said:

_ Da?

_ Hi, Michka, Czech's booming voice resonated in the loudspeaker, speaking in Russian. The job is done. You'll be receiving the latest photo any second now.

_ Yes, I see it, Kestrel said as a new photo appeared on the screen.

Sam saw the four Voron ops, still bound head to toe like smoked sausages, lying on the floor of some dark room among crates. Kestrel said:

_ Maria Josefovna's basement?

_ Very good, Michka! Yes, it was the safest solution for us. Now it's up to you to warn Voron, I can't be involved with them.

_ I'm on it, Kestrel said grimly. Are they alive and unharmed?

_ Like I said in my message, only bumps on the head. We've kept them sedated, they'll be okay and should be awake in a few hours. And now, the money.

Kestrel glanced at Charlie who gave him the Russian keyboard and the access page of the Bahamian bank, and Kestrel made the transfer of the last two million dollars. After two minutes, Czech said:

_ Good. So we're even, Michka.

_ Yes, we are, Kestrel said. Good job, Piotr.

_ As usual. And Michka? Do me a favour and forget my number.

_ Don't worry, Piotr. Good luck.

_ You too.

The line went dead, and Kestrel dialed Kossiak's number at once, neutral expression on. After two ringings, Kossiak answered:

_ Дa?

_ There is no greatness where there is not simplicity, goodness and truth, Kestrel said seriously.

_ Tolstoi, my favourite author, Kossiak said through the SMI. I have a book written by him in my bookcase, you're lucky.

_ As you can hear, Igor, I'm still alive, and not thanks to you.

_ I'm really sorry about it, Michka, Kossiak replied with a tense voice. Have you fought my team?

_ No. I found a solution. They're in Maria Josefovna's basement.

_ What? They're here, across the street? In Moscow?

_ Yes. You can pick them up. They're unconscious, though, they'll sleep for a few hours.

_ But... How...?

_ You don't want to know, Igor, Kestrel cut him drily, and Sam saw his anger rising. Now it's your problem, and I trust you to deal with Poliakov. But know that we're on an operation, and if you send another team on our tail, then I'll send them back to you likewise but in tiny pieces. Nothing personal, but I won't tolerate Voron breathing down our necks another time.

_ I'll bear it in mind, Kossiak said calmly but with a small quiver in his voice. Thanks for not killing them.

_ Bye, Igor.

_ Michka, wait! The envelope reached the American embassy this morning, and I put it in another envelope with Fourth Echelon on it. My contact said it would be delivered to you on the 5th.

Sam saw that Kestrel was at a loss for words, so he spoke softly:

_ Thanks, Igor Dmitrovitch. Now we must leave.

_ I understand, Sam Fisher. Again, I'm sorry.

_ No harm done, Igor Dmitrovitch, at least for now. Bye.

_ Goodbye.

Sam hung up and shot a look at Kestrel, but his ops had his poker face back on. However his eyes were betraying him, where his anger was showing, and Sam decided to move on to another important matter to distract him. He asked Grim:

_ Have you found the file?

_ Yes, she said, sending it on the SMI. Aldo Mancini, American from a family of Italian immigrants. He has done his whole career in the Navy, and he's a Seal since fifteen years. Leader of the Seal Team 4 in Little Creek, Virginia. He has an awful lot of people under his command. He can't be alone, some of his subordinates must be in the conspiracy.

_ How do we stop him? Sam asked her.

_ Briggs is right, she sighed. We must call Caldwell.

_ Then make the call.

He turned to face the screen, and soon the President of the United States was looking at him.

_ Good afternoon, Mr Fisher.

_ Good afternoon, Madam President. We have bad news.

_ As usual, Mr Fisher. I'm listening.

_ Leblanc has orchestrated a coup in Venezuela in a week. General Horacio will seize power, helped by a boat full of weapons sent by Leblanc. And the president Perez will be murdered by Navy Seals.

_ What? Caldwell cried in alarm. Navy Seals?

_ Yes, Madam President, under orders from Commander Mancini.

Caldwell folded her hands and stayed silent for a few seconds, then she said:

_ I'll call the Navy staff. As soon as they're here, we'll have a video conference. We can't let that happen. Do you have evidence?

_ Testimonies, but no evidence, Sam admitted. But we can't wait.

_ I agree, the president nodded. I'll call you back in about an hour, I expect.

_ Okay, Sam said simply.

The screen became blue with the logo of the White House, and Sam faced his team.

_ What about the MSS? Grim asked seriously. What role do they have in all this?

_ I think they're being used, Briggs ventured. Of course, being behind a coup like this one would be a feather in their cap, and China might seek an exclusive partnership with the future new authorities of Venezuela for oil. But I assume Leblanc only uses them to serve his purposes.

_ I agree, Sam nodded. And they certainly targeted Russia because of the special relationships between the two countries. But what do we do with them?

_ Maybe it's time for our CIA friends to be helpful, Kestrel said calmly. We can't track every single MSS agent and prevent the coup simultaneously.

_ You're right, Grim acknoweledged. Sam?

_ Yes, I'll phone Zeller. He had better get his butt off his chair and be efficient, this time.

Sam dialed the number, and soon heard the voice of his least favourite CIA supervisory agent. He told Zeller about the MSS agents, and the agent almost cried out of relief when he heard Sam asking him to take care of them. Then Zeller thanked Sam for the trust he still had in him and vowed to do the job until all MSS agents were arrested or sent back to China.

Disgusted, Sam hung up, but at least the MSS matter was settled. Around him, mouths were twitching, and he couldn't help the smile rising to his lips. Then Charlie cracked up, and soon all the Fourth Echelon team was laughing their heads off. Sam knew it was not because the situation was funny, but more out of a relief in the strain. And it was also because Zeller was a complete asshole.

The fit of the giggles went on for about five minutes when Sam heard his smartphone ringing. Sobered up at once, he took it out and saw with concern that it was his daughter calling.

_ It's Sarah, he said seriously, and as he took the call the laughter instantly died around him.

_ Dad? It's Sarah.

_ Sarah, honey! How're things?

_ They could be better, Dad, Sarah said with a small voice. Mary and James have had their chemotherapy, but they have difficulties to bear it. They're very weak.

Sam's heart tightened with worry and anguish. He said, as calmly as he could:

_ I'm sure they'll be okay, honey. They have some Fisher blood, after all.

Sarah had a small chuckle, but Sam heard her sobbing. He asked:

_ Will they be able to wait for the 12th?

_ The doctors don't know, Dad, Sarah said, obviously crying. If they survive the next two days, it'll probably be okay.

Sam's left fist clenched, and he felt his jaw tighten. Next to him, Grim was looking apprehensively at him, and the three men of his team had a worried expression on their faces. But Sarah asked with dismay:

_ Could you come to the hospital, please?

_ We have an appointment with the President in less than an hour, Sam answered her seriously, his guts twisting in dismay, but right after that I'll be on my way.

_ You're still on a mission, then?

_ Unfortunately yes. But don't worry, I'll manage.

_ Is the team okay? And Kestrel?

_ Yes, everybody's fine. Don't worry.

Sam saw his team shooting him a concerned look, and he knew they were worried about the children's state.

_ Could you bring Anna and Kestrel with you? Sarah asked him. Ben and I really need to talk to all three of you.

_ I can't promise you anything there, honey, Sam said, masking his disarray. It'll depend on what will be said during our appointment.

_ I understand, Sarah said through her tears, wrenching Sam's heart. Well, keep me posted, Dad.

_ I will, honey, I promise. See you later.

_ Love you, Dad.

She hung up, and Sam felt fury welling up in his chest. The unfairness and cruelty of his grandchildren's state was so devastating and heart-wrenching that he snapped once more. He violently tossed his smartphone on the floor where it shattered, and was about to attack the SMI when a blurred figure jumped in front of him, parrying his strike. He dimly recognized Kestrel, but he couldn't stop his anger, so he struck him with all his might. The ops calmly parried all his blows, not striking him back, only preventing him from hitting the console or another person.

Sam used Kestrel as a punch bag for about ten minutes before he started to regain composure, and soon stopped his strikes when he realized he was hitting his ops. But Kestrel, poker face on, truly had steel nerves, because he only backed a step and asked his boss matter-of-factly:

_ Feel better?

Sam nodded, breathing and sweating heavily, and went to sit on a chair behind him. He wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve as Grim walked slowly towards him and asked him softly:

_ What's the matter with the babies?

He took a deep breath and said, forcing down the emotion rising in his throat:

_ They're very weak. Sarah told me they have difficulties to bear the chemotherapy. The next two days will be critical.

Grim put a hand on her mouth in horror, and the rest of his team shot him a sad look. But Kestrel said calmly:

_ As long as they're alive, there's hope. Do not despair, Sam. Like you said, they have some Fisher blood. I'm sure they're as stubborn as their grandfather.

_ I'll take that as a compliment, Kestrel, Sam said, half-smiling.

He got up and hugged Grim tightly. She was shaking in his arms, but she soon gathered her bearings and exhaled deeply, locking eyes with him.

_ They'll be okay, he whispered to her. They'll live, I just know it.

_ I hope you're right, she murmured back. How I hope you're right!

He kissed her lightly, and she hugged him again, clearly sensing the anguish he was trying to hide. Then he reluctantly pulled away from her and said:

_ I'll have a quick shower. I can't speak with Caldwell and the Navy staff with a sweaty face. But after the video conference, I'll go to Johns Hopkins.

_ Sam? Grim asked him, stressed out. What did Sarah ask you that you couldn't promise?

_ I'll tell you later, he said grimly. Okay?

_ Okay, she nodded. In the meantime, we'll find that boat and the personnel under Mancini's command.

_ Good, Sam said.

He strode out of the room, picked up a handful of clean clothes in his cabin, and ran into a shower stall. But this time, he had hot water on his skin, letting it wash away his anguish and his tears.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! I'd greatly appreciate a review to help me going on writing! Thanks in advance!**


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Kestrel saw that Sam was devastated, although his boss had tried to hide it while exiting the control room. But right now there was nothing he could do about the twins' state, so he concentrated on what he could do, and that meant working to end the mission as soon as possible. Charlie and Grim were tracking the boat, trying to locate it, and Briggs and he were reading the files of the Seal Team 4, intent on finding Mancini's men.

Kestrel was frowning on his chair, focusing on his screen, but also wincing as pain was spreading through all his body. He had succeeded in parrying the majority of Sam's strikes, but not all of them, and the Splinter Cell knew for certain how to beat somebody up. And now that his back, ankle and ribcage were healed, he was quite put out to be aching again. He knew he would have bruises on his chest and arms, and one of Sam's blows on his upper chest had been particularly painful.

As he reached out for the coffee Briggs had made for the team, his shoulder emitted a loud "crack", and he doubled over, stifling a yelp. Briggs, alarmed, set his coffee on the desk and asked him in concern:

_ Hey, mate! Was it your shoulder? Is it okay?

_ I don't know, he admitted, feeling it gingerly.

But under his fingers, the shoulder felt dislocated. With a groan, he realized that Sam's blow had made the bone almost coming out of his socket, and the stretching movement he had made had completed the job. He sighed angrily and got up, pain coursing through his left arm and back.

_ Dislocated, he said with fury. That's the last straw! Чёрт! _(Shit!)_

He strode towards the training room, not wanting to go to the infirmary this time. He didn't want to be lectured by the doc, and he had spent enough time there to his taste. So he entered the vast room and went straight to a wall covered with a thick mat. He already had dislocated shoulders in his career and knew how to put them back in place alone, but it was painful. So he braced himself, took a deep breath and abruptly rammed his shoulder on the mat at the exact spot where the bone could re-enter the socket.

The pain was so sharp and intense he couldn't help the yell, and he saw stars popping up before his eyes. But at least, his shoulder was back in his right place, he could feel it. He slumped against the mat on the floor, breathing hard, and through the stars he saw Sam and Briggs on the threshold, looking at him in concern. Sam looked shameful and guilty, and he said:

_ I'm sorry, Kestrel. Is it because of me?

_ Yes, Kestrel said calmly, still breathing hard. But it's okay, Sam. My shoulder's back in place.

Sam and Briggs went next to him and Briggs held out his hand. He grabbed it with his good arm and was soon on his feet. The stars slowly disappeared, and he carefully moved his left arm. It was still aching, of course, but at least he could use it. So he went to the first-aid kit next to the locker and dug in it. He soon found painkillers and took one, gulping it down without water, then turned back towards Sam and Briggs.

_ Let's get back to work, he said calmly. Caldwell will call soon.

Briggs nodded and led the way out. But Sam stopped Kestrel before he could exit the room and said apologetically:

_ I'm really sorry. I didn't want to hurt you.

_ It's okay, Sam, Kestrel repeated calmly, locking eyes with his boss. You needed to let off the steam, I've been in the same situation not so long ago. And everything's back to normal, so don't worry. But not a word to the doc or he'll have my hide.

_ Trust me, Sam said, his mouth twitching, I won't tell him. We need you awake.

_ Let's go, then.

They followed Briggs back to the control room and Grim asked him from her computer:

_ All right?

_ Yes, he simply said, sitting back in front of his computer again.

Next to him Sam was picking up the pieces of his smartphone and tried to repair it, but he soon gave up. Kestrel heard him sighing and asking with a dejected voice:

_ Charlie? Could you give me a hand?

The tech rose from his chair and went behind Kestrel, and the ops heard him say:

_ Sorry, Sam, but your smartphone is beyond repair. I have another one for you, just keep your memory card.

_ Wonderful, Sam grumbled. Took me six months to know how to use this thing! And now I must change again...

_ It'll be exactly the same, Charlie said with an amused voice, don't worry. And next time, don't smash it on the floor! Smartphones don't appreciate being smashed.

_ I'll bear it in mind, Sam grumbled, making Kestrel smirk. About the boat?

_ It left Rotterdam on the 27th of April, Grim answered him seriously, and should arrive in Caracas on the 9th. It'll be long to find it in the Atlantic Ocean, but we'll find it.

_ And the Seals?

_ It's not the Team 6, Briggs said. Mancini is in charge of the Team 4, and in normal circumstances he shouldn't be able to order an assassination of a foreign president without the go from his hierarchy. And the Navy staff is clear, at least we think so.

_ How can we be sure?

_ We can't yet, Briggs admitted. It'll take time to check everything.

_ Time is one thing we don't have, Sam said darkly. So where is this Mancini?

_ Home, Grim said, at least that's what he said. Apparently his wife has died of cancer three days ago, he's got a leave of two weeks.

_ So he's out of the radar, Sam said. And about his men?

_ Sam, Kestrel said calmly, you know better than any of us how many men he has under his command. Too many to track them all in such a short amount of time. We need to find them quicker than with a simple digital tracking.

_ What do you mean? Briggs asked him, frowning.

But Kestrel saw that his boss had understood what he meant, and he was obviously thinking about it. Suddenly the SMI beeped, and Grim said, rising:

_ The White House calling.

She pressed a touch on the console as Sam went before the screen, his team around him, and soon Kestrel saw a conference room full of generals and admirals wearing more stars than he could count, and Caldwell in the center of the large table. He noticed the presence of General White, director of the NSA and Robert Tibbs of the CIA, and knew that the situation was very serious.

_ Mr Fisher, Caldwell said, we're ready for the meeting. What do you have?

_ The boat sent by Leblanc is in the Atlantic Ocean, Sam said calmly, not impressed by all eyes on him. It should reach Caracas on the 9th, only one day before the coup. And we know Commander Mancini will order the assassination of the President Perez, but we don't know the men who'll do it.

_ I can't believe it, a four-star admiral said, and Kestrel recognized the commander of the American Navy. One of our most trusted Seal officers would do such a thing? Do you have any proof, Mr Fisher?

_ I have testimonies, Sam answered, from two CIA moles. Special agents Tomlinson and Dawson, and you'll be able to interrogate them. I don't like this situation anymore than you do, Admiral, I was a Seal myself.

The admiral stayed silent, and Tibbs chimed up:

_ You've done the CIA a great favour by uncovering the three moles, Mr Fisher. We're on the MSS tracks, and we'll help you as much as we can to find info and support you if you have to go to Venezuela.

_ Thanks, Sam said. But the priority is stopping the Seal mission. Is it an order from the Navy staff?

_ No, it isn't, the admiral said rather stiffly. My staff is clean, Mr Fisher, but about Mancini and his subordinates I can't be sure.

_ I didn't mean to offend you, Admiral, Sam sighed, we haven't time for small quarrels like that.

_ You're right, Caldwell said. So how do we stop him?

_ Mancini has just lost his wife, the vice-admiral commanding the Seal Forces said grimly. I went to the funeral just yesterday, and personally gave him two weeks of leave and promised him not to disturb him in any way. I can't call him back now, it would be highly suspicious.

_ What could make him come back without him raising an eyebrow? Sam asked him seriously.

_ Only a serious issue within Little Creek, the vice-admiral answered. But if some corrupted men are there, we can't organize such a thing without knowing who to trust, especially with the beginning of the new recruits' training starting tomorrow.

Silence fell, but Kestrel had the strong suspicion that his boss was thinking the same way he did. That was too perfect an occasion to miss. And indeed, Sam said:

_ What if my two ops infiltrate Little Creek as new recruits?

The vice-admiral thought about it, and finally said:

_ That's a possibility, but they'll have very little time to make Mancini come back. And of course, they'll have to pass themselves off as Navy soldiers. Will they be physically apt?

_ No problem there, Sam said with confidence, making Kestrel and Briggs smile in pride. My ops are the best, maybe even better than your Seals, Admiral.

_ I wouldn't bet on it.

_ So that's settled, Caldwell stated calmly. Mr Fisher, your men will have to go to Little Creek straight away. The NSA will create fake identities for them immediately, and they'll have four days to make Mancini come back and find the other men involved.

General White nodded grimly, and Sam said:

_ All right, Madam President. My men will create chaos and collect data, you can trust them. And we'll keep an eye on the boat. It'd be better if we could neutralize it while he's still out at sea.

_ I agree, Caldwell said, but we can send the Team 6 for that as soon as you arrest Mancini.

_ Yes, Sam approved. I know the Devgru will do a great job.

_ Indeed, Mr Fisher, the vice-admiral said with a small smile. You can't have all the fun.

Sam smiled, and Caldwell said:

_ Right. To work, everybody, and keep me posted.

Sam nodded, and Charlie cut the communication. Then Sam turned towards his two ops and asked:

_ Ready to start your training as Seal recruits?

_ I don't think we're left with much choice, Briggs complained. But I'm ready.

_ It'll be fun, Kestrel said, smiling.

Sam couldn't help his smile and said:

_ You're gonna spit your guts, boys. The Seal training is the most difficult in the world. Eighty percent of the recruits quit before the end of the six months.

_ That's because they're wimps, Kestrel said calmly. You should see the training in Voron, but they don't boast about it.

_ Just shut up, mate, Briggs said dejectedly. I don't know if I'll be up to it, honestly.

_ You'll be up to it, мой друг _(my friend)_ , don't worry. I'll carry you through the obstacle course if I must, but you'll stay with me and do the job.

Briggs shot him an astonished look, but Kestrel meant what he had just said. He knew he would certainly withstand the nightmarish training and lack of sleep thanks to his exceptional physical abilities, but he also knew it would be more difficult for Briggs. And he would help his teammate as much as he could. And Briggs nodded gravely, shooting him a grateful look. Sam patted them on the back and said seriously:

_ You'll have three days maximum to wreak havoc, on the fourth Mancini must be arrested. How will you do that?

Kestrel had an idea about that, and of course he didn't like it at all. But he said grimly:

_ I think I'll be the antisocial hothead, if only because any instructor will have a tough time breaking me. A hint of racism on top of everything and I should be immediately hated.

Sam half-smiled and said with an amused tone:

_ You know you'll have a nice haircut, and you'll have to shave your beard?

_ I'll gladly have the haircut, Kestrel said, my hair is far too long to my taste. But I'll keep the beard.

_ You won't be able to, Kestrel, Sam shook his head calmly. Only seasoned Seals can wear one.

_ I won't shave, Sam, Kestrel said with a decisive tone. I keep the beard for Alpha, I vowed never to shave again. And I'd like to see the man who'll force me to do it.

Kestrel saw his team shooting him a sad look, but he would hold on on that matter, it was too important for him. So Sam said:

_ Good luck with that, sonny. Now you should pack your things and go to Little Creek. We'll call you as soon as we have news from the NSA with your papers.

Kestrel nodded, but he saw Sam hesitating, and asked him calmly:

_ Anything else, Sam?

_ In fact, his boss confessed, Sarah wanted you and Grim to come with me. She told me Ben and she had something to tell us. That's what I couldn't promise her.

Kestrel saw Grim pursing her lips and the Splinter Cell looking worried, but he masked his own concern and said calmly:

_ Don't worry, you tell them we'll talk as soon as I come back from Little Creek in four days. In the meantime, say hello for me and wish the twins well, please.

_ I will, Sam said gravely.

Kestrel exited the room and went to his cabin, where he packed a few clothes and his toiletries in a small bag. He knew the staff at Little Creek would give them Navy uniforms, and he wasn't too worried about the mission. But what worried him was the role he'd have to play. Maybe he'll have fun playing the jerk, but more probably it'll be hard, especially towards Briggs and African American soldiers. It'll be only for four days, Kestrel, he told himself, and it'll be for the greater good.

He sadly took out the chain from his neck and set it on his nightstand with his OPSAT, then went out of his cabin and knocked on Briggs' door. He heard his teammate telling him to come in and pushed the door open. Briggs was obviously ready but was staring intently at the photo of his girlfriend Molly on the nightstand. Kestrel closed the door behind him and waited. At long last, Briggs looked at him and asked:

_ Do you truly believe that I can do this?

_ Yes, Kestrel said earnestly, locking eyes with him. I know you can. But are you ready to do it, that's the question, мой друг.

_ I don't know, Briggs shook his head in dismay. I really don't know. I have so many thoughts jostling in my head about the mission, Molly and her pregnancy, our future together and with a baby... I'm so confused, mate.

Kestrel strode towards him and knelt in front of him.

_ Isaac Briggs, he said seriously, making his teammate look at him in surprise. What do you want?

_ What? Briggs asked, nonplussed.

_ What do you want? Kestrel repeated calmly. What is your vision of the future for Molly and you? What do you want to do with your career?

Briggs stayed silent for long seconds, obviously thinking about it. And then Kestrel saw a spark of determination litting up in his eyes, and the ops said:

_ I want Molly to marry me. I want to live with her in Washington or Baltimore. I want to have the baby with her, and learn to be a good father. And I want to stay in Fourth Echelon and work with you, Sam, Grim and Charlie. That's what I want.

_ And it's up to you to do it, Kestrel said with a kind smile. You can have all of it if you really want it.

_ Yes, his teammate nodded, smiling a little too. I know I'm a lucky man.

Kestrel simply nodded, and got up, holding out his hand for Briggs. He took it and embraced Kestrel, murmuring:

_ You're my best friend, mate, you know? Thanks for everything. You know how to comfort people.

_ So I've been told, he said calmly, forcing down his emotion as they pulled apart. But you know that I'll have to be a slimy piece of shit for a few days. I'll have to insult you and others, and be a complete racist bastard. So please forgive me in advance.

_ You're forgiven, mate. Don't worry, I know.

_ I hope so. But now, are you ready, мой друг?

_ Yes, Briggs nodded calmly. This time I'm ready.

_ Good, Kestrel smiled. Let's go, then.

They exited Briggs' cabin and made their way back to the control room. Sam was eyeing them with a wistful expression on his face, and Kestrel knew their boss was proably recalling his first day as a Seal recruit. He said:

_ The NSA contacted us. One of their agents will be waiting for you on the parking lot of Little Creek with your papers. Briggs, you'll be Petty Officer First Class Jason Marler, from the USS Eisenhower, and you're 26. Kestrel, you'll be Petty Officer First Class Slavek Yarmolenko, from the USS California, an attack submarine, and you're 28. The NSA checked that no other recruit is from your supposed boat, so it should be all right. Ensign Otis will be waiting for you at the gate of Little Creek and give you your uniforms. Ready?

Kestrel and Briggs nodded, and Sam said simply:

_ Off you go, then. Bring me this bastard.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's note: Hi, everyone! So, some explanations about this chapter and the ones that will follow. I did some research, of course, to be as realistic as possible, but unfortunately (or reather fortunately since it involves men risking their lives to protect our American friends) I couldn't find specific details about the Little Creek base or ths Seal training, so I made wild guesses. One thing is genuine though: the indoor obstacle course with the swimming pool, because I saw it in an impressive video. **

**Please enjoy and please, please, please leave a review!**

Chapter 26

Briggs drove them to Little Creek in Virginia, as Kestrel's car was in the parking lot of Dulles airport in Washington since his trip to Boise. During the trip they mostly stayed silent, but talked a little about strategy. Kestrel would play the bad guy and attract attention, so Briggs would have a field day to spy the Seals and find who was with Mancini.

And when they arrived to the Little Creek base, Kestrel was ready to play his role. He got out of the car and spotted the NSA agent next to a black car, waiting for them. He and Briggs walked towards him, and the agent gave them their papers. Kestrel could see they were genuine, and a résumé of his fake life was attached. He saw that Slavek Yarmolenko was born in New York of Ukrainian parents, had served in the Navy for five years in submarines and was specialized in arms and electronics.

Then the two of them went to the gate, where Ensign Otis, a small black-haired woman, greeted them and led them to a nearby outbuilding. There two petty officers took their measurements and soon gave them their uniforms. Kestrel was surprised to see he even had some medals on his official uniform, and asked about them. Ensign Otis told him that Slavek Yarmolenko had received the Silver Lifesaving Medal, the Navy and Marine Corps Achievement Medal, and the Navy Expert Rifleman Medal. Then his petty officer gave him the regulation haircut and told him to shave in the morning, but Kestrel wasn't going to obey.

The sun was almost set when they exited the outbuilding, and Kestrel and Briggs followed Ensign Otis to the barracks, where she gave them a small bedroom they would have to share. A lot of recruits were already there, looking curiously at them, so Kestrel started to play his role, frowning and keeping a grim face. He put down his bag in the locker and murmured to Briggs:

_ Now Slavek will be an utter bastard, мой друг _(my friend)_.

_ Go on, Briggs whispered back. Don't worry about me. We have a job to do.

Kestrel nodded and said loudly:

_ So where do you come from?

_ Portland.

_ And on which boat were you assigned?

_ The USS Eisenhower.

_ Ha! I see.

_ Do you have a problem with that? Briggs asked disgruntedly, playing along.

_ No. Guess we won't be teammates, that's all. Just give me enough space to breathe.

And Kestrel strode out of the bedroom, poker-faced but feeling bad, but he had a job to do. Around him in the corridor, he saw puzzled looks and frowning expressions, and snapped:

_ What are you looking at? Clear off!

He took his best intimidating stare, and soon the soldiers looked away. He wanted to smile but forced it down. He was Slavek Yarmolenko, first-class jerk and unsmiling arms professional. He waited in the corridor like the other Navy soldiers, not really disturbed by his uniform, and ignored Briggs when he came out too.

Soon a barking chief warrant officer 4 ordered them to the mess, and Kestrel fell in line, concentrating on his pace. He had been in the Army, but it had been the Russian one, and the pace was not the same as in the US. But he soon caught the rythm and followed the other recruits. He was offered a small plate of pasta with meatballs and complained loudly about the quantity, and received another one. But he had caught the eye of the chief warrant officer who was frowning at him. And when he sat down at a table, alone, the officer marched to him and said, looking at his rank and name:

_ Petty Officer First Class Yarmolenko! Already making trouble?

_ No, sir!

Kestrel rose to his feet and looked at the officer in the eye. He was shorter than the chief warrant officer of about three inches but the guy wasn't threatening enough for him.

_ Why are you complaining? Hungry, are you?

_ Yes, sir!

_ Then eat, because tomorrow you'll regret it! And shave your beard!

_ No, sir!

The officer looked like he'd been slapped. He asked with a dangerous voice:

_ What did you just say, Yarmolenko?

_ I said "No, sir"! Kestrel said calmly, still locking eyes with the officer, named Norwood.

Every pair of eyes was fixed on the two of them, and the mess had gone silent. Norwood, obviously not used to being defied like that, looked thunderstruck, but after five seconds he regained composure and said menacingly:

_ Well, Yarmolenko, you don't start brilliantly. But tomorrow morning you'll have this beard shaved or I can guarantee you that you'll be very sorry indeed. Do I make myself clear?

_ Yes, sir!

The officer shot him a last angry look, then turned towards the other recruits. Kestrel sat down, ignoring the stares on him, and started to eat. Nobody came to his table, and that was fine by him. He was doing well enough. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Briggs, among five other recruits, starting to chat quietly, and he felt good about it. At least his friend wouldn't be alone.

He wolfed down his two plates, but was still hungry. However Norwood was still eyeing him nastily, so he decided against asking for another plate. He would stuff himself the following morning. After dinner, Norwood and another officer called Rojas gathered up the recruits and ushered them into their barracks, telling them to sleep while they still can. Kestrel and Briggs obeyed at once, the day had been very long, and in no time they drifted into sleep.

Kestrel awoke at five, hearing discreet footsteps in the corridor. He immediately got up and put on his fatigues, and shook Briggs' shoulder. He knew his teammate was a heavy sleeper and would have trouble with the wake-up call, and he couldn't let him have a cardiac arrest. Briggs opened his eyes, so when the bugle suddenly resonated in the corridor, he didn't jump too hard and was already half-dressed.

The two of them hastily made their beds, Briggs showing him the good way of doing it, and five minutes later they were in the corridor, the first ones out. Kestrel could see Norwood and Rojas at the end of the corridor, and Norwood frowned when he saw Kestrel. The beard will serve your purposes well, мой друг, he thought dimly. Soon all the doors opened and all the recruits were waiting next to their door, about a hundred men and six women. Norwood barked an order, and all recruits stood at attention.

_ Right! the officer yelled. Hell starts right now for you! Now get out!

Rojas led the way to the outside, then they gathered in a large area for training. The two officers made the recruits form ranks, with space between every line, and Kestrel guessed the weak-gutted would soon spit them, as Sam had warned them. And when Norwood reached him, he braced himself.

_ Yarmolenko! You still have the beard?

_ Yes, sir! he said loudly, his stare fixed on the American flag thirty meters away.

_ Haven't I told you yesterday to shave it?

_ Yes, sir!

_ Then why haven't you done it?

_ Because I can't, sir!

Norwood masked his surprise, and his eyes narrowed.

_ And why is that, Yarmolenko?

_ I made a vow, sir!

_ Did you now? the officer smirked in triumph. Well, then, you'll have to understand something here, Yarmolenko. Only qualified Seals can wear the beard, and you're _not_ a qualified Seal. So you'll prove me you can become one, and then I'll think about letting you keep it.

_ Yes, sir!

_ Okay! Norwood shouted, addressing the recruits. Push-ups for everyone! On the ground!

Kestrel crouched and positioned himself on the grass, ready. Briggs was four men away on his right, and he hoped he would bear the pressure and efforts. Then Norwood positioned himself too and Rojas started to count quite fast:

_ One! Two! Three!...

Kestrel was steadily pushing on his arms, focused on the movements of his body, at ease. Around fifty the first recruits started to fall, and at one hundred only two dozen men were still doing push-ups with Norwood. Kestrel saw that Briggs was one of them, and he suppressed a smile. His teammate was tougher than he was letting on.

At two hundred only Kestrel and Norwood were still pushing on their arms, but Kestrel felt great. All the recruits had risen and were surrounding them in a wide circle, sensing that it was more a challenge than a simple training. And Kestrel couldn't crack first. So he went on, Rojas still counting loudly, and emptied his mind. At three hundred, he saw Norwood starting to falter, sweating heavily, but the Seal had strength and guts. And Kestrel had to wait four hundred and five to see the chief warrant officer putting a knee on the ground. He himself did ten more push-ups before Rojas told him to stop, and he rose, only sweating lightly.

Norwood, breathing heavily, went right in front of him, and said reluctantly:

_ You're quite strong, Yarmolenko. You can keep your beard for now. But later today the Devgru will be back, so don't be surprised if you'll have to prove yourself to them another time.

_ Yes, sir! Kestrel said, smiling a little.

_ Okay, recruits! Rojas shouted. Now the real show begins! For now you're just wimps, but you'll soon see of what stuff Seals are made! Form ranks!

Kestrel resumed his place among the recruits who were shooting him admirative looks, and they followed the two officers to a nearby building. And when they entered, a collective gasp echoed in the vast room. They were standing in front of one of the toughest indoor obstacle courses in the world. Ropes, nets and monkey bars were crisscrossing above a swimming pool in a nightmarish water version of the hardest course Kestrel had ever seen. Rojas smiled evilly and said:

_ For now you'll do the course like you are, but after breakfast you'll have full backpacks, helmets and rifles on, so enjoy!

_ Yarmolenko! Norwood called out with a smirk. Time to show us your strength again! After you!

Fine, Kestrel thought. Without hesitating he ran to the first rope and suspended himself, swinging it towards a great net hanging five meters above the water. Then he let go of the rope and caught the net, swiftly climbing it and going to the other side. After that he had to jump in the water to reach the next hoops, so he let go and plunged into the freezing water. He swam to the hoops, which were rising steadily to a set of monkey bars, and grabbed them. Soon he hoisted himself up to the bars and used his arms to advance to another rope.

After another net and some tricky plank with holes, there were more ropes and monkey bars, then he reached the finish line, which was in the pool. So he jumped another time and swam to the edge of the pool, where Norwood was waiting for him. He got out of the water and the officer stared at him with an appraising look, but this time didn't comment. Kestrel knew the Seal was impressed, and he forced down his smile. His harsh training with Voron and Sam hadn't been for nothing.

A few meters away, Rojas said:

_ You saw the way, now all in!

Kestrel watched the other recruits on the course, and saw that Briggs was doing well, although his hands slipped on the plank and he fell in the water. But a lot of recruits weren't even up the hoops, and Kestrel knew that the dream of being a Seal would soon end for them. After about an hour, Norwood and Rojas gathered the recruits and led them back to the barracks, where they had five minutes to change into their spare fatigues and make the ones they had on drying, before going to the mess for breakfast.

Kestrel piled his plate with eggs and sausages, bread and bagels, a mug of coffee and apple juice, and sat at his table. Some guys tried to sit with him, but he told them with an evil glare:

_ I eat alone.

So they went to a nearby table, obviously seeing his anger. He quickly ate all his food, he knew they wouldn't have much time. And sure enough, ten minutes later Rojas rose and shouted:

_ Out!

All the recruits ran outside, back in the training area, where they would do combat training with the Seal Team 2. Norwood, still smiling, told them that they would have to make their sparring partner fall on the ground to pass the test. So Kestrel faced a master chief petty officer built like a tank, and at Rojas' whistle attacked.

He soon saw that the guy, although taller than him by half a foot and heavier by around fifty pounds, was no match for him, and he pinned him down in less than a minute by giving him an uppercut straight on the chin. His opponent's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed like a wooden plank on the grass. Norwood ran to them at once and checked on the guy, but he was passed out cold. He scowled at Kestrel and said:

_ Take him to the side of the area, Yarmolenko.

So Kestrel hoisted the guy on his shoulders and brought him where two male nurses were waiting, ready to treat the wounded. He laid down his opponent who was immediately taken care of, and advanced towards Norwood who was gesturing at him to come closer. The chief warrant officer said:

_ Impressive, Yarmolenko. But do not get a big head, this is only the beginning.

_ Yes, sir! Kestrel said calmly.

_ Off you go!

Kestrel marched to the other side of the area, where the men having won their fight were waiting. He saw Briggs was still fighting, and his friend gave his opponent a good high kick, winning his fight. He suppressed his smile and stopped a few meters away from the men and women waiting. A big guy named Forrester said loudly:

_ Hey, Yarmolenko! Good fight!

_ Thanks, Kestrel said absent-mindedly.

_ Wanna come with us?

Kestrel turned his gaze towards the man and his group, where two African American men and a woman were clustered, and, forcing his self-disgust down, said with a sneer:

_ No, thanks. I don't have much taste for the company you seek.

Outraged hisses resonated around him, and Forrester said angrily:

_ What did you just say? Do you have a problem, asshole?

_ None, Kestrel said firmly, poker-faced but with his cold stare on. Just stay away from me.

_ You too if you don't want to be smashed to a pulp! the black-skinned guy next to Forrester said indignantly.

Kestrel snorted in mockery, inwardly wanting to throw up at his attitude, but kept his cool. Fortunately the fighting ended, and he saw that Briggs was all right. Rojas and Norwood led them back to the obstacle course, but they made a detour in a nearby outbuilding first, where they were given a heavy backpack, a helmet and an assault rifle. The gear was weighing about forty pounds, Kestrel thought dimly, that would complicate things.

And when they were told to do the course again, this time Kestrel knew that some recruits would crack and quit. He went first and did the course quite easily, but behind him some recruits were having real trouble with their heavy load. He even was the first taking off his gear in haste and diving into the pool to keep a panic-stricken recruit afloat and bring him back to the edge, where Rojas and Norwood hoisted the trembling and screaming man out of the water. Then he got out too and watched as Briggs was halfway through the course. His teammate was clearly struggling under the weight of his gear, but he succeeded in finishing the course, and Kestrel softly sighed in relief.

Two of the six women and a dozen men gave up, and they were ordered back to the barracks, where they would gather their things and leave the Seal training. Kestrel could see their sadness and rage, but he knew that only a few people around him would reach the end of the harsh training. Then the officers ushered them to the barracks too to have a shower and put on their drying fatigues, and they would have lunch.

Kestrel was starving, but he was quite happy to have a two-minute shower. The he dressed up and asked Briggs in a murmur:

_ Okay, мой друг?

_ I'm gonna die before the four days, mate, Briggs said in a whisper, putting on his fatigues. I won't be able to stand it.

Kestrel strode towards him and put a hand on his shoulder. Briggs looked up and locked eyes with him, clearly reading the unspoken message Kestrel was sending him. Then he nodded and said:

_ I'll hold on, mate.

Kestrel nodded, then exited the room. He was ready to resume his play as the Yarmolenko jerk.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

While following the recruits heading to the mess, Briggs was trying to recover from the efforts of the morning. He had had much trouble doing the obstacle course with the heavy gear, and wondered how Kestrel was doing it so easily. But then he remembered that his best friend had endured horrible and painful experiments, and he was now stronger and faster than any soldier but not by choice.

And so far Sam's plan was working. Nobody had done a double-take at the two of them, and Kestrel was succeeding in making his pseudonym Yarmolenko a wonderful scumbag. So all Briggs had to do now was finding the men following Mancini's orders and finding a way to wreak enough havoc to make the commander coming back. But he still had to think about it, and try and survive in the meantime.

In the mess, he ate quickly while seeing Kestrel complaining again about the food quantities, and in the end the fed-up cook gave him half of a dish of lasagna, and Kestrel looked satisfied at last. Then he went to sit alone at his usual table, but some tough-looking guys Briggs identified as Devgru men were frowning at his teammate. Next to him, Forrester said:

_ Uh oh. Looks like the jerk has pissed off the Team 6 with his beard. Let's watch him get what he deserves.

Briggs and the men and women at his table looked at Kestrel, who calmly rose after four Devgru went next to him and said:

_ Up!

Briggs saw that his teammate had his poker face on and his cold stare, and part of him was happy to see him pitting himself against some of the best ops in the world, even if he dreaded the result. One of the Devgru spat:

_ So, Yarmolenko? What a name! And what a beard! Do you think you'll be able to keep it?

_ Yes, sir! Kestrel said calmly, locking eyes with the guy.

The Devgru laughed evilly, and Briggs shuddered. But Kestrel looked calm enough, and asked seriously:

_ Why is it so funny, sir?

_ Because, Yarmolenko, you've got some nerve! But the beard is for seasoned Seals only, so we'll make you shave after teaching you a lesson.

_ If you say so, sir, Kestrel shrugged but with a harsh gleam in his eyes which would've made Briggs running away in a panic.

The Devgru men obviously saw it, because they seemed less self-assured. But they were in the middle of the mess, with more than a hundred people watching them, so they couldn't back down. And the leader said:

_ Okay, Yarmolenko. If you resist, you can keep your beard. But if you crack, you'll have a nice shaving.

_ Yes, sir! Kestrel agreed with an amused smile.

_ Push-ups! the Devgru said. On the fists!

They both positioned themselves, between the tables and the eating recruits and Seals, and started. One of the other Devgru men was counting, and Briggs crossed his fingers under the table, inwardly shouting encouragement to his best friend. Next to him, the African American guy called Richardson snorted:

_ He won't be able to resist. He's strong, that's true, but against the Devgru...

_ Don't underestimate him, a woman called Akira cut him. He's a jerk, but I'm sure he can beat them.

_ What do you think, Marler? Forrester asked Briggs. He's your roommate.

_ He's a powerful son of a bitch, Briggs answered calmly. But I really don't know if he'll be able to resist.

_ He's racist, isn't he? Richardson asked.

_ Yeah, Briggs said. He made sneaky comments yesterday evening, but I told him to shut up if he didn't want to be beaten up.

Richardson snorted, and Briggs watched with detached emotion Kestrel still calmly doing push-ups on his fists, reaching eighty. The Devgru facing him was strong, but his arms were shaking hard. Briggs knew that push-ups on the fists were very difficult and exhausting, but Kestrel seemed at ease. However, the Devgru was slowing down, and one of his teammates took his place, picking up the challenge. Kestrel, unfazed, went on like nothing had happened.

Briggs, cursing inwardly, saw that the Devgru would try to humiliate his best friend and relay each other, but he knew that Kestrel could beat them all. However, after all the efforts he had made in the morning, he wondered if the ops would be up to the challenge. And he also knew that Kestrel wouldn't be able to lose his beard, as he was keeping it in memory of Alpha, the love of his life. But Kestrel was still calmly pushing on his arms and fists, as the counting reached a hundred and fifty.

Around two hundred, the Devgru faltered, and a third man took his place. Now all the people in the mess were focused on the challenge, and Briggs heard that some recruits were murmuring encouragement to Kestrel. The Devgru was strong, and the two men reached three hundred and fifty, and still Kestrel was fighting, but he was sweating heavily now. And at last the Seal put a knee on the floor, hastily relayed by the last of his teammates, and Richardson said:

_ Maybe the motherfucker's gonna make it, after all!

_ I'm sure he will, Akira said confidently.

_ All because he doesn't want to shave, Forrester shook his head. What a stupid and stubborn man!

_ He's got a will of steel, we can grant him that, Briggs said with a detached voice.

But inwardly he was screaming at his teammate to hold on. He could see that Kestrel was slowly reaching his breaking point, but facing him the Devgru looked shaken too. And at five hundred and seventeen, the Devgru fell on his knees. Kestrel went to five hundred and twenty, then put a knee on the floor, breathing heavily. Then the Devgru that had challenged him in the first place held out his hand, and Kestrel took it. The Seal helped him on his feet and said grudgingly:

_ Okay, Yarmolenko. You can keep your beard.

Kestrel only nodded and went crashing on his chair. Briggs saw him make a face as his dish was probably cold, and he got to his feet to use the microwave next to Briggs' table. As he was waiting, Akira said:

_ Good job, Yarmolenko!

_ Thanks, Kestrel said, not looking at her, his arms shaking a little and still breathing loudly.

_ You look ready to cough your heart out, Richardson noticed with a smirk.

_ Just shut up, Kestrel sighed.

_ Or what? You're gonna make me do push-ups?

_ Shut up! another voice rang out behind Briggs. He has won his challenges against Norwood _and_ the Devgru, and he beat us all in the obstacle course. So show some respect!

Briggs turned and saw that it was the blond woman recruit named Stuart who had spoken. She looked calm enough, but he wondered if she was having a crush on his teammate. Too bad he's still in love with Alpha and blind to everyone else, he thought dimly. She was kind of pretty. But Kestrel, oblivious to all of this, was back at his table and wolfing down his plate as quickly as he could. He barely had time to eat his dessert when Rojas rose and shouted:

_ Recruits! Out!

Briggs and his tablemates scrambled to their feet and gathered up in the training area. This time Norwood and Rojas were on each side of a third man Briggs identified as the commander of the Seal Team 2. The recruits stood at attention under Rojas' command, and the commander said calmly:

_ At ease.

He surveyed the recruits and went on:

_ It's your first day here, and you're still a lot. But in six months, there will be only a dozen of you left. And to make sure we pick up the best among you, you'll have a very hard training. So this afternoon, you'll have a twenty-kilometer march with backpacks and rifles to end your first day in Little Creek. I trust all of you to uphold the honour of the Navy Seal Corp by doing your best. The Seals are like a family, and even if we have to select some of you, no one must be left behind. Good luck!

The recruits stood at attention again as the commander left, then they went back to the outbuilding near the indoor obstacle course to pick up the backpacks and rifles. Briggs received them and saw that the rifle was a FN SCAR with a weight of about seven pounds, and the backpack was still weighing about forty pounds. Great, he thought, now twenty kilometers and I'll be on my knees.

Rojas and Norwood took the lead, carrying the same gear, and Rojas shouted:

_ Okay, let's go for twenty kilometers of fun! I want everybody back with a smile!

_ Tough luck, Richardson said in an undertone next to Briggs.

They set off, and Briggs saw Kestrel behind his group, walking alone. But he concentrated on his walk, as Rojas and Norwood were going at quite a fast pace, and soon the scarce conversation among the recruits died down completely, as everybody was focusing on keeping the pace and breathing deeply.

The first twelve kilometers went all right, but then things became harder for the recruits, as Rojas and Norwood quickened the pace a little. Briggs was still following, barely keeping up, but next to him Akira and Stuart, the two nice women, were clearly suffering. Richardson and Forrester weren't too proud either, and another African American guy called Sakho was stumbling.

In the fifteenth kilometer, Sakho fell face-first, and before Briggs or any member of his group could react, the guy was hoisted back on his feet by Kestrel, still walking behind them. The ops said gruffly:

_ Give me your backpack and rifle.

_ Yarmolenko, I... Sakho started, panting.

_ Now! Kestrel barked, eyebrows knitted. I'm hungry, and in no way will you make me miss dinner!

The guy obeyed, and Kestrel loaded himself with the extra backpack on his chest and the rifle which he slid between his back and his backpack, with his own. Then he set off again, oblivious to the admirative looks of Briggs' group.

_ He isn't as bad as I thought, Richardson muttered. He's helping a black guy after all.

_ Yeah, Briggs said, masking his emotion. Maybe he's just uneasy with others.

Richardson nodded, and Briggs saw Akira and Stuart exchanging a meaningful look as they resumed their walk again. Sakho looked better and was able to keep up with them. But two kilometers later it was Stuart who stumbled. Briggs was following with difficulty, and he raged at being unable to help her. But once more, it was Kestrel who told her to give him her backpack and rifle.

Briggs frowned at the sight of his teammate putting a third rifle in his back and Stuart's backpack on top of his own in his back. Kestrel looked exhausted, but he knew that only he could see it, as he was his teammate since two years. Kestrel could hide his feelings and state of being easily, but his eyes were betraying him. However the ops resumed his brisk pace, now carrying more than a hundred and thirty pounds like a featherweight. And when they reached at last the training area, Rojas and Norwood raised an eyebrow at the sight of Kestrel, loaded like a pack donkey, calmly putting down his three backpacks and rifles.

_ Yarmolenko! Rojas said, gesturing at Sakho and Stuart, both looking ashamed. Why were you carrying those two recruits' gear?

_ You told us to come back with a smile, sir, Kestrel said, panting slightly but with a small smile. You didn't say that we had to come back with each our gear. And the commander told us that no one should be left behind.

Rojas looked stunned, but soon smiled.

_ I like your spirit, Yarmolenko.

Then he turned towards all the exhausted recruits and barked:

_ Dinner in the mess, than everybody in the barracks! Curfew in two hours!

Briggs went with the others to the mess, and this time Kestrel didn't have to complain as half a dish of mushroom and ham risotto was waiting for him. He took it with a grateful smile and was about to sit at his usual table when Sakho and Stuart steered him towards the great table where Briggs and his group were already settled.

_ Tonight you eat with us, Yarmolenko, Stuart said firmly. After what you've done for us, we won't leave you on your own.

_ I'd rather be alone, Kestrel said calmly. I don't like having company when I eat.

_ Bullshit, Sakho said, shooking his head. Now come with us!

Kestrel didn't protest further and sat next to Sakho and opposite Stuart, Briggs just next to her. He hastily ate his meal, not surprising Briggs but startling the others. However nobody made any comment, as they probably could see that "Yarmolenko" didn't want to be bothered. Dinner was soon eaten in silence, as everybody was utterly exhausted, and soon the tablemates got up and headed towards the barracks.

Kestrel went straight to the showers, closely followed by Briggs, and "Marler" enjoyed a wonderful moment under the hot water, but his eyelids were heavy. So he went back to his bedroom and saw Kestrel in a T-shirt and pants, about to put himself to bed. Briggs asked him in an undertone:

_ Are you all right?

_ Yes, Kestrel nodded wearily, climbing in the top bed. But I'm on my knees, мой друг _(my friend)_.

_ Looks like you won't be the bad guy any longer, Briggs said calmly. Not after what you've done this afternoon.

_ Doesn't matter, Kestrel said, already half-asleep. I attracted attention, I hope it'll be enough. I don't like being a jerk. Will you contact Sam tonight?

_ No. I don't have anything new.

_ The Team 6 is clear, I heard their conversation during lunch. They can't stand Mancini, apparently.

_ Then I'll concentrate on the Teams 2, 4,8 and 10.

_ You should sleep, мой друг. They'll certainly going to wake us up in the middle of the night.

_ You think so?

_ Absolutely, Kestrel said in a whisper. The lack of sleep is a strong means of dissuading weak minds to continue.

_ Kestrel, I think you should know that...

Briggs stopped himself, he could see that his teammate had fallen asleep. So he put himself into the lower bed and his head had barely touched his pillow when he fell asleep too.

It seemed to him that only ten seconds had passed when he felt Kestrel's hand on his shoulder, and woke up. He asked in a murmur, having trouble opening his eyes:

_ What time is it?

_ A quarter to two, Kestrel answered, already fatigues and cap on. And I think I heard Norwood talking about an outdoor obstacle course, so eat something.

_ I don't have anything, Briggs said sadly while getting up and hastily dressing.

Kestrel dug in his locker and tossed him a cereal bar, which Briggs quickly wolfed down with large gulps of water. Then, as they made their beds, the bugle resonated loudly, making him jump. But Kestrel had been right, and like the day before they were the first ones in the corridor. In front of the doors Norwood smiled at their sight and nodded appreciatively. Then, when all the remaining recruits were out, Norwood barked:

_ Time for a night stroll, boys and girls! Out!

The recruits, Briggs saw, were mostly half-asleep and drowsy, and he shot a grateful look at Kestrel. Thanks to his early warning he was almost completely himself, which was a good thing for what was coming. They were indeed heading towards the woods, and soon saw a pole with a flag on top. A dirt track was leading to some brightly lit obstacles, and Rojas announced:

_ Right! This is a classic obstacle course, the kind you all know. It is two kilometers long and counts twenty obstacles. The record is held by the Devgru, one of their men ran it in five minutes and twenty-two seconds. But you're only recruits, so I give you ten minutes to run it. Anybody out of time will go packing right afterwards. Understood?

_ Sir, yes, sir! the recruits said loudly.

_ Two at a time, Norwood said. Form pairs with your immediate neighbour!

Briggs was standing next to Forrester, so he teamed up with him. Behind him, Kestrel teamed up with Richardson who didn't look happy about it but didn't say anything. And soon Rojas ran to the end of the course while Norwood stood on the starting line, holding a walkie-talkie and a stopwatch. And the first team started, then the second, and so on. Before Briggs and Forrester, only one team ran out of time.

Then it was their turn, and Briggs exhaled deeply. Norwood yelled "Go!", and he ran to the first obstacle, a rope ladder. He climbed it in haste, pushing hard on his feet and using his arms, and jumped from the top. He carried on, hardly stopping at the obstacles and thinking even less, and only paused in the ditch. But he soon got out of it and finished the course in eight minutes and seven seconds, two seconds ahead of Forrester.

_ Not bad, Rojas told him.

Briggs was panting, but he knew that Kestrel would soon arrive, so he waited, catching his breath, as he heard in Rojas' walkie-talkie the go. And five minutes and something later he saw Kestrel casually running towards the finish line, and Rojas stopped his stopwatch, saying in disbelief:

_ Five minutes and twenty seconds!

Kestrel only smiled as in the walkie-talkie Norwood was grumbling:

_ Yarmolenko again? I hate this bastard!

Briggs and Forrester chuckled and patted Kestrel on the back as they waited for a very disgruntled Richardson to finish the course in eight minutes and fifteen seconds.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

The news of Yarmolenko's record on the obstacle course spread like wildfire, so by the time Kestrel entered the mess for breakfast, all the recruits stood and started to applause. The Devgru men he had beaten the day before with push-ups were there too with the rest of their team, looking disgusted and impressed at once. But he kept his cool and only thought about eating, grabbing a dozen bagels and a large mug of coffee.

Like in the evening Stuart and Sakho insisted that he sat with them and Briggs' group, and he obliged, eating in silence. He noticed that Briggs looked better than the day before, in spite of the short night. Maybe his teammate was beginning to adjust to the harsh training.

But soon Rojas came at their table, and a commander was with him. The recruits stood at attention, but the officer said calmly:

_ At ease, please sit down. Petty Officer Yarmolenko, I'm in charge of the Team 6. I heard that you've beaten the record of the Devgru this morning. But I have trouble believing it, to tell you the truth. So I'd like you to do the course again after breakfast with the Devgru who made the record.

_ Yes, sir! Kestrel said calmly.

_ Good! See you later, then.

Kestrel calmly sipped his coffee, gulped down his last bagel and got up to have another mug and two more bagels. He was really starving, and knowing that he had to do the obstacle course again was encouraging him to have fuel for the efforts. All around him he could see the gazes on him and conversations about him and his performances, but he was on alert to hear anything about Mancini. But so far nothing. So when Norwood told the recruits to get up and head towards the obstacle course, he calmly followed Briggs and his group.

All the Seal Teams and the recruits seemed to have gathered along the course, and Kestrel hoped that Briggs would take advantage of it to spy on them. The occasion was too good to miss. And sure enough, he crossed Briggs' stare, and his friend gave him the tiniest of nods. Then Kestrel went to the starting line, where a rather skinny but tough-looking Devgru was already waiting. He heard Stuart say:

_ Good luck, Yarmolenko!

And to his great surprise, she was echoed by Forrester, Akira, Sakho, Briggs and even Richardson. But he concentrated on the course. He knew it would be bad to humiliate a Devgru, but on the other hand he wanted to take revenge about his beard's incident, and also prove to these show-offs that somewhere somebody could be better than them. Smiling slightly he shook the hand of his opponent, a petty officer second class called Logan, and crouched. Norwood was on the line, holding a whistle and a stopwatch, and said:

_ Ready?

The two men nodded, and Kestrel's vision tunnelled. He focused on the course, not seeing the clustered people anymore. And when the whistle blew, he was the first to run. He swiftly ran to the rope ladder and bounded, jumping straight on the fourth bar, and one second later was already on top of the ladder. He jolted forward and let go, jumping down the three meters straight on the ground. He eased his ankles and knees, rolling forward and getting up in the movement, running again. He vaguely heard exclamations and shouts around him, but he was only focusing on doing well. He was careful not to run too fast, but he kept a safe distance of ten meters between him and the Devgru.

Soon the second obstacle loomed into view, a series of wooden bars set at different heights, and he easily passed under and above them. During all the course he stayed in the lead, and even heard a shout of surprise from his opponent when, after climbing a ten-meter-high wooden ladder with widely-spaced bars, he chose to jump down, catching a bar every three meters with his arms then letting go, before resuming his running.

He easily jumped in and out of the two-meter-deep ditch, the last obstacle, and sped up for the last meters. He had to be sweating a little, after all. And when the finish line loomed into view, he saw that all the men and women of the base seemed to be there, cheering and shouting in disbelief. He passed the line as Norwood stopped his stopwatch, Rojas and the commander of the Devgru flanking him. And silence fell. Kestrel, breathing heavily, saw his opponent finishing the course, looking disgruntled, and Rojas announced loudly to the waiting crowd, eyebrows arched in astonishment:

_ Five minutes and nine seconds!

The recruits cheered as Forrester and Sakho lifted Kestrel onto their shoulders, and they chanted:

_ Yarmolenko! Yarmolenko!

His cheeks very hot, Kestrel asked the recruits to put him down, but they carried him to the training area, still chanting his fake name, and he saw Stuart, Akira and Richardson beaming at him. Briggs was nowhere to be seen, and that was good. He was probably collecting data, all the better for their mission.

When the recruits finally put him down, he was soon patted on the back and shoulders by a forest of hands and smiles were flashing all around him, but soon the crowd parted as the commander of the Seal Team 2 went in front of him. He stood at attention but the officer said with a small smile:

_ At ease, Petty Officer Yarmolenko. You did an impressive course, and you pulverized the record. I hope you'll reach the end of your training and will be able to join us or the Devgru.

_ Thanks, sir, he simply said, a little uneasy about having to lie to all these men.

_ Now, the commander said loudly to all the people around them, everyone back to your jobs! Recruits, you have an indoor training awaiting you!

Kestrel heard a collective groan, but before he could turn away the commander said in an undertone:

_ If you break the record of the water course too, I'll make you join us straight away, Yarmolenko. We have a special operation abroad in a few days, and I'm short of one man.

_ I'll make my best, sir, Kestrel said, poker-faced.

But inwardly he was smiling ruthlessly. It was too big a coincidence. Maybe the traitor had just given himself up to him. He had to talk to Briggs as soon as possible.

As he followed the recruits to the building of the indoor course, he saw Briggs casually striding towards him and saying:

_ Hey, Yarmolenko! Good work!

_ Thanks, Marler, Kestrel said. I'm glad to have broken the record. I even caught the eye of the commander of the Seal Team 2, Coxville.

He shot a meaningful look at Briggs who immediately nodded, having understood. He asked casually as they arrived near the building:

_ Has he offered you a job?

_ Yes, Kestrel acknoweledged, understanding at once that Briggs hadn't wasted his time. He said that if I succeeded in breaking the record of the indoor course too, I'd go abroad with his men.

_ How lucky you are, Forrester chimed up next to him. Imagine, just two days of training and be a Seal! You're truly gifted, Yarmolenko.

_ Thanks, Kestrel said calmly. But I still have work to do for that. We'll see how things are this evening.

He said that to Forrester and all the listening people but also to Briggs with a double meaning, and the ops discreetly nodded. So Kestrel, relieved at seeing that their mission was going well, concentrated on the course. They were given the usual backpack, rifle and helmet, but Kestrel received a special gear. Norwood explained:

_ You have the Devgru gear, Yarmolenko. It weighs sixty pounds. Commanders Coxville of the Seal Team 2 and Barrett of the Team 6 want to see if you are up to the job, they'll be watching you. If you succeed and make a good time, you'll be able to choose between the two teams and become a Navy Seal in a few weeks.

_ Yes, sir! Kestrel said with a forced smile.

_ Warm up, then start when you're ready, Norwood told him.

Kestrel ran a little along the pool then did thirty push-ups with his gear, feeling the recruits' stare on him, but also the commanders' one from the other side of the pool. Some recruits started the course, and he waited calmly for his turn. And when he felt ready, Richardson let him take his turn, smiling.

_ After you, Yarmolenko!

So Kestrel jumped, grabbing the rope and swinging towards the net. The gear was quite heavy, and he was soon sweating madly, but he did his best. He did okay until he reached the plank. His right hand slipped on the holed plank while suspended and he almost fell in the pool, and heard a huge gasp behind him as all spectators held their breath, but he grabbed the plank again and went on. And when he jumped into the pool and reached the finish line, Briggs and Forrester helped him out, grinning broadly, as Norwood announced him, grinning too:

_ Record broken, Yarmolenko. Welcome aboard!

_ Thanks, sir! Kestrel said, panting.

_ You've earned a good shower, Rojas told him. And your training is over for today. Commanders Coxville and Barrett want to talk to you. Meet them in the mess in your uniform in half an hour.

_ Yes, sir!

Kestrel clapped Briggs' and Akira's outstretched hands, and went to lay down his gear in the nearby outbuilding, then went to the barracks. He spent ten minutes under the wonderfully hot shower, then took his time to cut his beard neatly, and finally put on the Navy uniform. Things would be tricky from now on, he thought gravely. He couldn't hesitate or he'll be immediately uncovered, and it was almost certain that Coxville was one of the Seals corrupted by Mancini and Meggido. He ached to phone Sam and ask for advice, but he didn't have enough time. So he set off towards the mess, saluting the passing Navy Seals and being saluted in return with great respect.

When he entered the mess, he saw not two but six officers waiting for him. He strode towards them and stood at attention, and a vice-admiral spoke softly:

_ At ease, Petty Officer Yarmolenko. Please sit down.

Kestrel sat at a large table, facing the six men, neutral expression on. It would be trickier than he had thought, but he wouldn't let Fourth Echelon down. The admiral said:

_ I'm Vice-Admiral O'Neill, commander of the Seal Teams, and around me, from your left to your right, you can see Lieutenant-Commander Coxville of the Team 2, Lieutenant-Commander Handersen of the Team 4, standing in for Commander Mancini, Commander Wilkins of the Team 8, Commander Barrett of the Team 6 and Commander Peterson of the Team 10. The Team 6 isn't stationed here in normal circumstances, but we are gathering for our annual competitions, which will happen in a few days.

Kestrel nodded at each officer, and they nodded curtly in return. The O'Neill went on:

_ Your astonishing performances of the last days have caught our attention, Yarmolenko. And we won't waste six months making you linger with weaker recruits, that would be stupid. So we'll give you a special individual training for a few weeks, with all the specialties required, then you'll become a Navy Seal. How is that?

_ I'm honoured, Admiral, Kestrel said with a fake emotion.

_ As you can see, the vice-admiral said with a smile, each Seal team wants you within their ranks. So it'll be up to you to choose where you want to go, a very rare privilege.

_ I don't know what to say, Kestrel said truthfully.

_ You can say where you will go, Yarmolenko, Coxville said with a grin. As I said earlier, I'd gladly have you among my men.

_ You're not the only one, Tom! Barrett snapped at him. I want him with the Devgru.

_ We won't fight, Wilkins said calmly, addressing Kestrel. Take your time, Yarmolenko. We understand it's quite a difficult choice, and most of all an unexpected one. Take the evening to think about it, and tomorrow you'll tell us which team you choose. I cross my fingers for the 8!

_ That's settled, O'Neill said, still smiling. Let's meet again here after breakfast tomorrow for your answer, Yarmolenko, and after you choose I'll have a chat with you and your career. But for now, you'll stay with the recruits for meals, and you have your afternoon off.

_ Yes, sir! Thanks, sir!

_ Off you go, then!

Kestrel rose, saluted once more then went back to the barracks. He didn't know if he should change in his fatigues and decided to do so, and waited in his room. He sent a message to Sam, disarray swirling in his mind: "Will become a Seal tomorrow. Some names found. Need advice tonight please. Hope twins okay."

He waited for only a minute, then he heard his smartphone beeping softly, and opened Sam's reply: "Phone me ASAP tonight. Go to gate and find ensign Otis, she's with us. Twins okay for now. Asshole!" Smiling broadly, he chuckled while deleting the message, feeling better already. He would talk to Sam with Briggs and all would be well. Sighing, he climbed onto his bed and lay down. Less than five seconds later he was asleep.

He awoke when he heard loud footsteps and swearing voices in the corridor, and checked his smartphone: it was 12.14 pm, he had slept a little more than an hour. As he got up, Briggs entered the room, drenched from head to foot, and asked with envy:

_ You had a nap?

_ Yes, Kestrel nodded, smiling. It was good.

_ Shut up, Yarmolenko!

Kestrel closed the door and turned towards his teammate, murmuring:

_ We'll phone Sam tonight at the gate, Ensign Otis will help us.

_ The Team 2 are the ones, Briggs hurriedly whispered as he changed into dry fatigues. The 4 is clean. But they're just following, at least the warrant officers are. I have a doubt about two of their officers.

_ And Coxville is a traitor too, Kestrel added.

Briggs nodded and said as they could hear loud noises in front of their door:

_ You're a fucking lucky bastard, Yarmolenko! And you have your afternoon off?

_ Yes, Kestrel said, smirking. I think I'll have a siesta.

Briggs threw his pillow at him, and Kestrel asked him, seriousness back on his face:

_ What about you, Marler?

_ A ten-kilometer running, Briggs said dejectedly. With all our gear again!

Kestrel simply nodded, but he knew he couldn't have a siesta knowing that his comrades were going to suffer in a running, so he decided that he would accompany them. And maybe that would help him finding a solution to his problem. He couldn't become a Navy Seal, so he would have to find something good to say to the officers the following day. And there was still the Mancini problem.

He heard Rojas' bark in the corridor, and exited his room, Briggs behind him. Soon they marched to the mess, and he received his usual half-dish, this time a beef casserole with potatoes. But this time, the cook handing him the dish was smiling at him, and he smiled in return. Then he went to sit at Briggs' table, next to Sakho and Stuart, and started to eat. He was left outside the conversation, and it was all the better, he thought.

Next to him, Akira and Stuart were talking about the indoor course, and Sakho, Forrester and Richardson were recounting their obstacle course of the night. Briggs was eating in silence, like him, and Richardson asked him, frowning:

_ All right, Marler? You haven't said a word yet.

_ Yeah, I'm fine, Briggs said calmly. I have quite a lot in my mind.

_ You worry about the training? Akira asked him in concern.

_ Not really. I have other important things to deal with.

He didn't elaborate, and around him the recruits looked puzzled, but Kestrel could relate. They had a vital mission to do without raising any suspicions, and on top of that Briggs was also worrying about Molly and her pregnancy, while he was worrying about James Woodridge's state and the bone marrow transplant. But before Akira could ask him something else Norwood stood up a few meters away and barked:

_ Recruits! Out!

Kestrel got up with the others and followed them to the outbuilding to collect his gear. When he went in front of Rojas, the chief warrant officer said, frowning:

_ What are you doing here, Yarmolenko? You have your afternoon! Go have a nap!

_ I'm sorry, sir, Kestrel said calmly. I don't feel sleepy.

Rojas shrugged and handed him the gear, and he was soon out with the others. Then Norwood led them to a dirt track and said:

_ Right! Now, boys and girls, we run! And everyone comes back here with his own gear!

And he set off, leading the recruits, while Rojas was bringing up the rear. Kestrel was running between Briggs and Stuart, quite at ease. But running with forty-seven pounds was not the same as walking so after five kilometers the first exhausted recruits were stumbling. Rojas and Norwood were yelling at them to keep up, while Kestrel was still at ease. He felt bad for Stuart, Sakho and Forrester, who were clearly struggling to keep the pace, staggering under their gear, but this time he couldn't do anything. Unless...


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's note:** **Hi readers! A strong warning for this chapter. This story is rated T, but this particular chapter is rated M for a scene of abuse and violence. I tried to keep things as light as possible, but take care! And as usual, enjoy and please write a review!**

Chapter 29

_ Hey, Kestrel said calmly while running. Want to hear a Ukrainian joke?

All the recruits around him shot him a bewildered look while they were struggling to run and breathe, too winded to answer. So he said with a small smile:

_ Just what I thought, you're all dying to hear it. So it's an elderly Ukrainian man who's lying dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite Ukrainian pierogies wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed.

While telling the story, he could see that the recruits around him were listening, a little interested. His plan was working. He went on, a little winded:

_ Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs. With labored breath, he leaned against the doorframe, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon waxed paper in the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favourite pierogies.

He could see that around him the listening recruits were picturing the scene, diverting them from their struggling, and they seemed already more at ease while concentrating on another thing that their suffering. And he saw that the recruits in front of their group had decreased their speed to listen too. He smiled and continued the story, as they had run a kilometer since the beginning:

_ Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Ukrainian wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world as a happy man? Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a crumpled position. His parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of the pierogies was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life. The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to the pierogies at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spoon by his wife. "Back off", she said, "They're for the funeral."

Halting laughter and coughs rose around him, and he saw the recruits, trying to laugh in spite of the struggle, smiling and shooting him grateful looks. He even heard a chuckle from behind him, and as he knew that only Rojas was there, he grinned. Soon they ended the ten kilometers of the running and the recruits collapsed on the training area, but those who had been around him were still grinning, and thanks to his story no one had given up. Then Stuart said, panting and disentangling herself from the heavy backpack:

_ Thanks a lot, Yarmolenko. Without your joke, I would've fallen in the sixth kilometer.

_ Me too, Forrester admitted, breathing heavily. That was brilliant!

_ Why did you do this? Richardson asked him curiously. You had your afternoon, and tomorrow you'll be a Seal. Why do you care about us?

Kestrel remembered Dyedushka's words to him, a long time ago, saying that no one should ever be left behind, and his vital advice about efforts and bearing pain. But he simply said, laying down his gear:

_ My grandfather told me once that a sharp mind is your best friend but also your worst enemy. When you need it for the best, all is well. But when you're in pain or struggling, it pictures your suffering and struggle so well that it increases the sensations of helplessness and pain to twice its real amount. So, to counter it, you must distract it with pictures, a film or a joke or whatever, and feed it, so only your body is suffering, and you can cope with it far easier.

Richardson looked impressed, and he saw Briggs smiling at him, giving him the thumbs-up. He felt great, and even better since all his teammates were still in the course.

_ Your grandfather seemed to be a wise man, Yarmolenko, Rojas's voice rose behind him. You've just given them the key to success!

_ I hope so, sir, Kestrel said, looking at him calmly.

_ Okay! Norwood shouted from ten meters away. Put your gear in the usual room then follow me!

Kestrel grabbed his gear and dropped it in the outbuilding, then followed the recruits to another building. Inside he saw a huge swimming pool with a high diving board, and he smiled. He loved swimming, and it was all the better. Norwood said loudly:

_ The exercise is simple: you climb, you dive, you swim. The diving board is five meters in the air, the pool is deep enough and a hundred meters long. Just wait for the recruit before you to be in the middle of the pool to avoid an accident. Do it three times each. Go!

Kestrel went first, he wanted to show to an apprehensive-looking Akira that it wasn't so terrible. He quickly climbed the ladder to the diving board and dove. When he entered the water he started to use his legs, his arms stretched in front of him, and surfaced twenty meters away from the edge. Then he started to swim the crawl, casually advancing in the water in spite of his fatigues and boots, and reached the other edge of the pool. He got out of the water under the approving stare of Rojas, and turned to watch the others while walking along the pool.

Briggs was a strong swimmer, he dove without fear and did the lenght easily enough. Akira found the courage to dive and did a great job. All the recruits were from the Navy, they weren't afraid of water, and nobody backed down. Kestrel dove and swam twice more, then waited for the last recruits to finish, then Norwood dismissed them. They would have dinner and a well-earned night's sleep.

After a quick shower, Kestrel and Briggs headed towards the mess with their group, Briggs chatting calmly with Forrester and Richardson. Kestrel was walking in silence, listening to Akira and Stuart's conversation with Sakho about the following day's program. He was really hungry and a little tired, but far less than the day before. When they entered the mess, he saw that it was full to bursting with Navy Seals, and he dimly thought that they would have to wait to eat. But then the Devgru team saw them, and the man who had defied him with push-ups the day before went to see him.

_ Hey, Yarmolenko! Good job, this morning! I was happy to see Logan with dust up his lungs!

_ Thanks, sir, Kestrel replied politely.

_ Ha! No more of this "sir" bullshit! Call me Magnusson. You'll soon be one of us. Hope you'll choose the Team 6!

Kestrel simply smiled, and Magnusson went on:

_ We're almost done, take our table.

_ But there's at least twenty people before us...

_ No more, Yarmolenko! the Devgru cut him. Hey, chef! he yelled loudly to the cook. Yarmolenko's party has arrived!

_ Come forward! the cook beckoned at Kestrel and his teammates, ignoring the disgruntled faces of the waiting Seals.

_ Go on! Magnusson slapped Kestrel on the back. The recordman cannot wait!

So Kestrel, a little troubled, led his teammates up the queue and straight to the waiting cook, who handed him a large half-dish of Yorkshire pudding. Then he went to the Devgru table, and the Seals got up, allowing him and his teammates to sit down. Kestrel wolfed down his dish, slowly regaining composure, feeling a lot of stares on him and his tablemates. Stuart said between huge mouthfuls:

_ It helps having you on our side, Yarmolenko. Without you we would've waited for at least half an hour.

Kestrel shrugged, focusing on his food and the conversations around him, alert for any mention of Mancini or the operation abroad. But Sakho chimed up:

_ It'll be hard without you tomorrow. Have you chosen your team?

_ Not yet.

_ You'll sleep on it, Briggs said calmly. And we'll manage without you.

Kestrel nodded, eating the last bit of his dish. Then Forrester, who had already finished his meal, asked him:

_ Yarmolenko? Could I ask you something?

Kestrel raised his head and locked eyes with him. He didn't want to talk, but maybe the burly guy had something important to ask him. So he nodded and Forrester said, inhaling deeply:

_ Could I ask you to show me your techniques for the obstacle course, please? I have real trouble with it, and I don't want to renounce being a Seal because of that fucking course!

Kestrel surveyed him, appraising his force of will. The guy had the guts to become a Seal, he only lacked some physical preparation. So he nodded, saying calmly:

_ Okay, Forrester. I'll show you after dinner, but not for too long. I need sleep.

_ That will be great! Forrester rejoiced, looking relieved. Thanks a lot, Yarmolenko!

Kestrel caught Briggs' stare and blinked once. He hadn't forgotten their phone call to Sam in the evening, but he would take some time to help the nice guy. Briggs nodded curtly, smiling slightly. And Akira asked him:

_ Could I come too?

_ And me? Richardson said.

_ Me too! Sakho said, hope on his face.

_ You can all come, Kestrel said, eating his orange.

_ Well, no thanks, Stuart said. I'm good with the obstacle course, I just need more stamina and strength. I'll have some sleep.

_ You'll miss something, Forrester warned her. That's the last time Yarmolenko will be around. Maybe you'll regret it.

_ Maybe, she acknoweledged, but I'm too tired. Good night to you all!

She rose, followed by multiple eyes in the mess, and Kestrel noticed two Seals eyeing her with more than the average male interest for a pretty woman. He frowned as the two men hastily got up and exited the mess behind her, but he couldn't do anything. Maybe he was too paranoid, seeing imaginary things.

His tablemates had all finished, so they went outside and headed towards the obstacle course. He showed them how to save time with small tricks and techniques, and was thoroughly enjoying being an instructor. But as they reached the ten-meter tall wooden ladder, he heard a faint shout. Richardson and Briggs were talking, so he snapped abruptly:

_ Hush!

His teammates fell silent, looking curiously at him, but he ignored them, straining his ears. And he heard it again, a pitiful cry in the night, lost among the huge trees.

_ Yarmolenko, what's...

_ Somebody needs help!

He started to run through the woods, hurrying forward, focused on reaching the distressed person as soon as possible. And after jumping over a low bush, he reached an isolated clearing and saw a nightmarish scene before his eyes. Stuart, the nice woman smiling to them a mere half-hour earlier, was now crying her eyes out and moaning, lying half-naked on the ground, brutally forced by a Seal while his comrade, buckling his belt, was laughing.

Kestrel's vision went red. He tackled the laughing Seal, sending his fist on his temple, and the guy crumpled to the ground. Then he went above the other Seal and grabbed him by his shoulders, throwing him away of Stuart, who looked paralyzed with shock. The Seal, furious at having being interrupted, hastily put on his pants and fatigues and launched himself at Kestrel. But Kestrel was ready, and he was utterly mad. He wouldn't let this bastard get away with it so easily.

As his teammates were arriving in the clearing, he parried the first blow and retaliated, sending his fist on the Seal's nose who broke neatly. The guy howled but struck again, and Kestrel received his fist in the stomach. Grimacing, he let out a muffled yell and attacked with renewed strength and fury. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Akira helping a shocked Stuart back in her clothes, and Richardson had disappeared, maybe running for help. But he focused back on his opponent, and struck him with all his might. The Seal, hit on the left cheek, crumpled to the ground, passed out cold. But his head had violently jerked backwards with a sickening "crack", and Kestrel realized that maybe he had broken the bastard's cervical vertebrae.

Breathing heavily, his vision still red, he saw Briggs and Forrester hastily checking on the two unconscious Seals, and at his feet Briggs made a face.

_ He's barely breathing, and his neck is at an odd ankle.

_ Serves him right! Kestrel yelled suddenly, losing control again under his fury. He was raping her! I hope he'll die!

_ Yarmolenko! Forrester said, scowling. Calm down! It's over, they're out of order.

Kestrel, still seething with rage, turned his gaze towards the two women. Akira was supporting Stuart, murmuring comforting things, but Stuart's mind was elsewhere, numb with the trauma. And he heard shouting and running people coming towards them, circling them and asking questions. The Seal he had hit on the temple was awake, helped on his feet by some Devgru me, and Kestrel felt rage rising again. He yelled and ran towards him, wanting to kill him right away for what he did:

_ Ублюдок! Я убью тебя! _(Bastard! I'm going to kill you!)_

_ Yarmolenko! Calm down! a voice next to him he recognized as Norwood's one rang. We're handling this.

But he couldn't calm down. He couldn't let the son of a bitch go without punching the lights out of him. So he ran, intent on reaching and hitting his prey, but some strong hands grabbed him and restrained him. He roared in fury and yelled:

_ Let me go! Let me go! I'll kill him!

_ Yarmolenko! Calm down!

_ No! I'll kill him! Let me go!

He struggled against the vise grips, oblivious to anything except the cowering Seal who was handcuffed and being steered away by Norwood and a Devgru man, and heard Briggs' stern voice next to him:

_ Yarmolenko! Focus!

But he just couldn't. Having seen Stuart lying on the ground like this, so helpless and devastated, a madman raping her, was burning his mind, consuming the rational part of his brains, only leaving fury and a blinding thirst for revenge. So he struggled again, breaking the grips, and ran to the Seal between Norwood and the Devgru. The man yelped in fear, but before Kestrel could hit him he fell on the ground, having been tackled by a strong man. And some heavy bodies came crashing onto his back, pinning him to the ground, twisting his arms in locks. He howled in fury, struggling again, dimly registering Rojas' voice somewhere on his left ordering:

_ Marler and Richardson, sit on his legs! Chester, hold his right arm, and Magnusson, his left! Sakho, put your knees on his back! Hold on, boys, he'll calm down.

Kestrel was still struggling in spite of the recruits and Seals restraining him, blind and deaf to everything that wasn't his rage. He vaguely heard Briggs say:

_ Forrester, take my place! I'll try and talk to him.

He felt a shifting of weight on his right leg and tried to take advantage of it, but soon another heavy weight came crashing on it, leaving him sprawled helplessly on the soft grass. Then he saw a blurred figure kneeling in front of his face, and Briggs' concerned expression loomed into his still red-tinted vision.

_ Yarmolenko! Do you recognize me? I want you to focus!

Kestrel's mind split into two: one part was still struggling in blinding rage, and the other was listening to his friend, trying to calm down. He shook his head, nearly crushed under the weight of all the men on his back and limbs, and heard Briggs saying calmly again:

_ Yarmolenko! Calm down! You told us earlier something about your grandfather. Focus on him, and your family. Focus! Everything will be all right.

Kestrel understood then that Briggs was talking about Dyedushka, but most of all about Alpha, and Sam. Sam needed him. Briggs needed him. He focused, calming down and breathing deeply. He ceased to struggle and closed his eyes, trying to relax. Briggs was right, everything would be all right. Stuart would suffer, but she was strong. She would live through the pain and ordeal. And the two bastards would get what they deserved.

He let his head down on the grass, breathing as deeply as he could with the three men on his back, bringing back good memories of Alpha smiling to him, Sam and Briggs' laughter in his living room one night after watching a baseball match, Grim's trust and Charlie's mischievous jokes. And soon his muscles relaxed, he felt his body evacuating the tension. Above him he recognized Magnusson's voice saying:

_ That's good, Yarmolenko. We'll rise from your back, but we'll keep your arms behind you a little longer. Agreed?

Kestrel nodded, and he felt himself breathing deeper and easier as the three men rose from his back and knelt next to him, keeping his arms in locks. The men on his legs also rose, and he felt the blood circulating again. He stayed lying with his eyes closed, listening to the shuffling sounds and concerned voices nearby, smelling the grass just next to his nose, feeling the dew soaking his fatigues. After a few minutes Rojas' voice rose softly again:

_ Right. We'll handcuff you, Yarmolenko, and you'll get up. Okay?

Kestrel nodded again, and felt the cold steel tightening around his wrists. Then the two men holding his arms let go of him and grabbed him under his shoulders, and Magnusson said:

_ Okay, Yarmolenko. On the count to three. One... Two... Three!

He opened his eyes as the two men made him rise on his knees, and he got up. Rojas, Richardson, Sakho, Forrester and Briggs were right in front of him, looking concerned, and behind them he could see military paramedics taking care of Stuart, Akira still next to her and holding her hand. And a few meters away, the second Seal was being laid on a stretcher, still unconscious and his neck in a large brace. At the sight of the man, Kestrel felt fury rising again, and he spat violently:

_ I hope he'll snuff it! Go to hell, bastard! I hope you'll just die, yблюдок!

_ Yarmolenko! Rojas snapped. That's enough! Now come!

Kestrel was steered away from the clearing, tightly flanked by the Devgru men, following Rojas. He could hear Briggs' footsteps behind him, and wondered how things would turn for them. He asked Magnusson:

_ Who are these two bastards? Which team?

_ The Team 4, Magnusson answered with a disgusted face. Mad Mancini's men. Don't pick up the 4, Yarmolenko. A whole bunch of assholes, all of them.

_ I'll have to call Mancini, Rojas sighed in front of them. Only he can handle this. But now, Yarmolenko, I'm sorry but you're going to jail to calm down. We'll see tomorrow what will happen for all of this.

_ Okay, Kestrel said.

He could tell that he wasn't completely himself yet. A night in jail would be good to calm down and focus. And even if the situation was very serious, there was a good thing: it would make Mancini come back.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N:** **Hi everyone! Two small things: first, I've finished this story, so I'll release two chapters a day starting tomorrow. And second, I'm a fan of NCIS, so I couldn't resist making my favourite team coming for the inquiry! Please enjoy!**

Chapter 30

Briggs followed Kestrel to the jail, where Rojas told him and the other recruits that he would be in an isolated cell, not handcuffed, but alone until morning. And he told the recruits to go to their barracks or have a drink, so the four men went to the mess and had a whisky.

Briggs' mind was swirling with thoughts and emotions. He couldn't believe what had just happened and was appalled at Stuart's state, but on the other hand fate was helping them. Mancini would be there soon, so he had to call Sam as soon as possible. But what was going to happen for Kestrel was also a matter of concern. He had nearly killed a Navy Seal and wanted to do the same to another. Yes, he thought gravely, the situation was bad, and he needed help.

_ What will happen now? Sakho asked seriously next to him, speaking for the first time since the commotion.

_ I assume they'll call the NCIS, Richardson answered, still shaken. It's a crime, after all. Poor Stuart!

_ It's horrible! Forrester nodded. I can understand Yarmolenko's fury. But he's unbelievably strong. Do you realize that we were five on top of him, and he was still struggling?

_ He was beside himself with rage, Briggs said calmly, masking his disarray. In such circumstances one can do truly incredible things.

_ True, Forrester acknoweledged, but still... He's not a common soldier.

_ That's certain, Richardson said thoughtfully, sipping his whisky. Did any of you hear Stuart? She was two hundred meters away from us! He has an incredible hearing!

_ What will happen to Stuart now? Briggs asked, wanting to move on to safer topics. Will there be an official inquiry?

_ I suppose so, Sakho said. If the NCIS comes, it's inevitable. And I can't see how they'll be able to avoid it. It's a fucking rape!

Briggs took another sip of his whisky, his hand shaking a little. A rape! It was a rape! And he was a witness, just like his comrades. They were all shocked, he could see it. Panic was rising in his chest, so he said:

_ I need fresh air. See you in the morning.

Richardson clapped him on the back, then he exited the mess. He strode towards the gate, eager to meet Ensign Otis, and soon saw her near the sentry box. Her face was grim, and he saw she was aware of the bad news. She simply said:

_ Follow me.

She led him to a nearby deserted building and locked the door behind them. Then she marched towards a small office with a computer and a webcam, and told him:

_ The line is ready. Your boss is waiting. I'll be next door.

She went out, closing the door behind her, and Briggs sat in front of the screen. He made the call, breathing deeply, and when he saw the control room of the Paladin with Sam, Grim and Charlie looking expectantly at him, he couldn't help the sigh of relief.

_ Sam, thank heavens!

_ Wow, Sam frowned, a small smile on his lips. I didn't expect to see you so shaken, sonny. Is the training so harsh?

_ The training?

Briggs almost cracked up, trembling under the strain. The training was the last of his problems, but of course his team didn't know anything. He would have to focus and force himself to calm and patience. In the Paladin, he could see Sam and Grim exchanging a worried look, and Grim asked him:

_ Where's Kestrel?

_ In jail.

_ What? Sam exclaimed loudly.

So Briggs explained about their two days, the nightmarish training, Kestrel on the verge of being recruited, their teammates, the two broken records, Stuart's rape and Kestrel nearly killing the rapers. When he was done, his team had their mouths hanging open. But soon Sam regained composure and said:

_ So, Mancini will come to the base tomorrow?

_ Yes, that's almost certain, Briggs nodded. He has to come, since the two rapers are his men.

_ And what about his accomplices?

_ Lieutenant-Commander Coxville of the Seal Team 2 is with Meggido, and I suspect two of his officers to be too. Gunnarson and Silkes. The rest are most certainly clean.

_ So we must come tomorrow too, Sam said seriously. I'll call the President. We'll have to think about a cover.

_ What about Kestrel? Briggs asked in dismay. He protected Stuart, but maybe the NCIS will be on his back for beating up the Seals. One is badly injured.

_ I'll have Caldwell contacting them, Sam said. And maybe it's for the best.

_ What do you mean? Briggs asked him, lost.

_ I know how we'll come tomorrow, Sam smiled. As JAG officers, for Petty Officer Yarmolenko's defence.

Briggs felt a faint smile rising on his lips. A good plan, he thought. But the matter of Mancini and his accomplices' arrest wasn't settled.

_ How will we proceed for Mancini and the others?

_ I'll coordinate us with the NCIS, Sam said. They'll want to question the witnesses, and you are one. Their inquiry is a very serious and real one, but we'll take advantage of it. I'll have the Devgru ready to arrest the traitors. Just focus on the NCIS' questions, I'll do the rest.

_ Okay, Sam, Briggs exhaled, rubbing his burning eyes.

_ And have a drink, Sam told him seriously. You obviously need something strong.

_ Already had a whisky, he muttered. Now I need to sleep.

_ Then go, Sam said. I'll see you tomorrow. Ensign Otis will help us again.

_ Good night, Briggs said.

Charlie cut the communication, and Briggs got up, feeling utterly exhausted. He exited the room and went next door, where Ensign Otis was playing a solitary game on her computer, and she led him outside. Then he made his way back to the barracks and reached his bedroom in a daze. He tried not to look at Kestrel's things and put out his clothes, then soon collapsed on his bed and fell asleep instantly.

* * *

In his small cell, Kestrel was pacing like a caged lion, trying to evacuate his anger. But he was too full of adrenalin to calm down, and when he closed his eyes he could see Stuart's devastated face, so he set his mind. Sophrology wouldn't do the trick this time. He knelt on the floor and positioned himself for push-ups. And he started, counting in his head. He hoped it would be enough to let the steam off, but he knew it would take time.

He reached six hundred without thinking about it, but after that he had more difficulty keeping up. But he went on, wanting to wear out all his energy and emotions, so he just clenched his teeth, sweating heavily, and went to eight hundred. And when his arms were too trembling to continue and he put a knee on the floor, he was at nine hundred and thirty-tree. Not bad, he thought dimly, getting up and wiping his face with his light vest, feeling better already.

He staggered to the bunk and collapsed on it, now utterly exhausted. He had made all his fury and thirst for revenge go out, only leaving the shock and tiredness. But the exhaust was so high that he had barely time to grab the blanket and cover himself with it before falling asleep.

A sharp knock on the door woke him up, and as he sat on his bunk the door opened. Blinded by the harsh light, he heard Rojas' voice telling him:

_ Hello, Yarmolenko! Feel better?

_ Yes, sir! Thanks, sir! he said, getting up, his eyes adjusting to the light.

_ In a few minutes I'll escort you to the mess for breakfast. But before that, your lawyer from the JAG has arrived.

_ My lawyer? I don't need a lawyer!

Kestrel, still half-blinded, saw another man entering the room, and a very familiar voice rose, making hope and relief rising in his chest:

_ You always need a lawyer, Yarmolenko. And especially now.

He sat down, masking his emotion, as Sam, wearing a Navy uniform, walked to him, shook his hand and sat on the bunk while Rojas closed the door. And when the officer's footsteps faded away, Kestrel asked, his vision clear at last:

_ How're things, Sam?

_ Aside from the rape, good enough, the Splinter Cell answered calmly. Thanks to Briggs' intel yesterday evening, we set up a nice trap for our friends here. The NCIS is with us, they'll make the inquiry but we'll have a field day to arrest the traitors, with the Devgru's help. But how are _you_ , sonny?

_ I don't feel too good, to tell you the truth, Kestrel confessed, rubbing his face. I can't get the images out of my mind.

_ That I can easily believe, Sam nodded grimly. But you know only time will arrange that.

_ Yes, I know. Do you know how she is?

_ Stuart? She was in shock yesterday, but now she wants revenge. She officially pressed charges against her rapers first thing this morning. She told the NCIS that it was your fighting that gave her the courage to do so.

Kestrel nodded, relief spreading in his chest, warming his heart. She would be okay, he just knew it.

_ And what about the man I almost killed?

_ He's got broken cervical vertebrae and will be quadriplegic for the rest of his life.

_ Would it surprise you if I told you that's excellent news? Kestrel said with a ruthless smile.

_ Not at all. In fact, that's indeed excellent news.

Kestrel shot a grateful look at his boss, feeling understood and supported. And that feeling was priceless.

_ So? Sam said with a smile. Which team?

Kestrel laughed softly, shaking his head.

_ I really don't know, and I never will.

_ No, I suppose not.

Sam got up and said:

_ Come on, time for breakfast and a nice show.

The two of them, escorted by Rojas, made their way to the mess. And when Kestrel entered, Sam right behind him, all the men and women in the mess rose swiftly and applauded him loudly, even cheering. Kestrel, stunned, was rooted to the spot. But Briggs, Forrester, Richardson, Sakho and Akira were coming towards him, grinning, and Forrester said:

_ Good morning, Yarmolenko! We just wanted to thank you for having rescued Stuart and beaten up the assholes who did this to her. So thanks!

Kestrel saw Magnusson and Chester with their buddies coming to greet him too, and he noticed they were wearing their combat gear and weapons.

_ So, the Devgru are about to jump into action? he asked playfully.

_ Real-time bomb attack simulation, Magnusson answered seriously, clearly not aware of Kestrel's role. After the NCIS inquiry, of course. But you should eat. Good job, Yarmolenko.

Kestrel simply nodded and, still followed by Sam, took a tray and piled it up with bagels, muffins, a glass of apple juice and a large mug of coffee. Then they joined Briggs' group, and Kestrel started to wolf down his food. Akira, seated next to him, told him quietly:

_ Stuart would like to see you, Yarmolenko. She wants to thank you.

_ I'll go and see her later, he said between huge mouthfuls. But now, I think the NCIS will want to talk to me.

_ Indeed, Sam said. And I'll be there to help you.

Kestrel noticed that Sam had kept his name, and was Commander Fisher, like in Fourth Echelon. Briggs was about to say something when the doors slammed open and a small officer entered, looking furious, escorted by NCIS agents and several officers. The small guy, a commander, was obviously Mancini because he yelled:

_ Where's this Yarmolenko bastard?

Silence fell in the mess and Kestrel calmly rose, facing the man. Sam got up and went next to him as Mancini strode towards them, shaking with fury. But he could see behind the approaching group the Devgru surreptitiously rising and spreading around the mess, circling them. No one would escape, Kestrel thought happily. But he focused on the man who had stopped right in front of him and braced himself.

_ So you are Yarmolenko? Okay. And you're wearing a beard? My God, this place is really going downhill, but that's not the point. You beat two of my men up, and one is quadriplegic! You had no right to do that, and be assured I'll make you pay! You have no proof that they did anything wrong!

Kestrel's vision turned red again, and fury rose in him in such an amount that he clenched his fists and was about to strike the scumbag in front of him, when Sam went right in front of him, putting himself between his ops and the commander, and said calmly:

_ Commander Mancini, I assume? I'm Petty Officer Yarmolenko's lawyer from the JAG. You shouldn't accuse my client of anything before the NCIS' inquiry. I believe there are solid evidence and testimonies in this case, so I strongly advise you to let my client alone.

_ Commander... Fisher? I don't need advice, thank you very much! I know my men are innocent, and I will make your client pay! For once, he'll never become a Seal! And when I...

Mancini stopped when he noticed the two Devgru coming on either side of him, and Sam said:

_ You should listen more attentively to my advice, Commander Mancini. But for now, you'll follow these men.

_ What? Mancinin asked in alarm as the Devgru handcuffed him. What's happening? Why...?

_ All will be explained later, Aldo, the commander of the Seal Teams, Vice-Admiral O'Neill, said calmly next to him. But for now, you'll do as you're told.

_ But...

In the mess, Kestrel could see Coxville and the two other suspect officers with handcuffs, looking grim, and Mancini saw them too. He narrowed his eyes towards Sam and spat:

_ I should've known! You've tricked me! You're Sam Fisher of Fourth Echelon!

_ And how could you possibly know it? Sam asked with an amused voice. Unless somebody tipped you off...

_ Leblanc did! Mancini said without thinking. He warned me that...

He abruptly stopped, realizing that he had betrayed himself, and Sam laughed.

_ Well, you're quite straightforward, I'll grant you that, Mancini! But the show's over.

_ Bastard! Mancini screamed as he was steered away towards the doors. This is not the end! Leblanc will have you and your team killed!

_ We shall see, Sam said evenly.

Mancini and the three traitors were steered out of the room, and silence fell. Kestrel sat down as the commander of the Seal Teams addressed Sam:

_ Good job, Mr Fisher. But maybe we should explain what is happening to everybody.

_ I think you're right, Admiral, Sam acknoweledged. If the NCIS can wait five more minutes?

Kestrel, while finishing his breakfast, saw the four agents nodding and sitting at a nearby table with the officers while Sam remained standing, facing a good part of the astonished people.

_ Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Sam Fisher, and as you cannot see I'm not a Navy officer or a JAG lawyer. I'm the director of a special group within the NSA, and we were trying to prevent a coup in a South American country. Sadly, some Seals were involved in it.

Kestrel heard a collective gasp and saw stunned faces, but Sam went on:

_ We didn't know who was involved exactly, so with the permission of your staff two of my ops have infiltrated this base and found the suspects, who've just been arrested.

_ What? Commander Wilkins of the Team 8 cried. You mean that two of the recruits here are your ops?

_ Yes, Sam nodded with a smile. But I'll let them introduce themselves. Agent Briggs?

Briggs rose and smiled a little, and around Kestrel their tablemates were blown up. He hastily wiped his face as Sam said:

_ Agent Kestrel?

He stood up, and a collective groan of disbelief and disappointment rose from all the tables. He smiled, exchanging an amused smile with Sam and Briggs, and looked around him serenely. His undercover job was almost over, he would soon go home.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Briggs could see the bewilderment on all the faces, especially their comrades' ones, but soon the commander Wilkins said:

_ Well, at least they did a great job! I think no one would have guessed their true identity. You have two very talented ops, Mr Fisher!

_ That I know, Sam said proudly, shooting a warm glance at him and Kestrel.

_ So who are they, exactly? Magnusson from the Devgru ranks asked.

_ After you, boys, Sam said, gesturing at them to introduce themselves.

Briggs shot a questioning look at Kestrel, and his friend said:

_ You first.

_ Okay, Briggs said, inhaling deeply. So, My name is Isaac Briggs, and I'm from Washington. I'm thirty years old.

_ Were you in the Navy? Richardson asked him.

_ Nope, he answered with a smile. Served in the Army for some time.

He heard a groan, and smiled wider, Sam shrugging and Kestrel stifling a laugh. Then Magnusson asked loudly:

_ What about you, Yarmolenko?

Kestrel smiled and said:

_ I'm Kestrel, and I'm thirty-three years old.

_ Impossible! Logan shouted. A guy ten years older than me couldn't have beaten me! I don't believe it!

Briggs recognized the guy as the Devgru who had lost against Kestrel on the obstacle course, but Kestrel chuckled, and Briggs imitated him. Sam chimed up:

_ He's thirty-three, I can assure you. He has quite a long experience, that's all.

_ And where do you come from? Sakho asked curiously.

_ Yeah, tell us! Chester shouted. Where do they grow up war machines like you?

Briggs saw Kestrel shooting an uneasy glance at Sam, but their boss said calmly:

_ Go on.

_ They're going to lynch me, Sam.

_ No, they're not.

Sam addressed the crowd:

_ You're not going to lynch him, are you?

_ No! the amused and impatient crowd shouted.

_ You see? Sam asked mischievously. So tell them.

_ Okay, Kestrel said, breathing deeply. I'm American since two years ago.

_ You were Ukrainian? Akira asked in disbelief.

_ It's even worse, Kestrel grinned. I was born in Novgorod.

_ He's a fucking Russian! roared a Devgru.

Around Briggs an incredulous yell rose, and he laughed. He told Kestrel:

_ A Russian-born civilian guy broke two Seal records! They're stunned, mate!

_ That I can understand, Kestrel nodded calmly.

_ We'll survive the news, Magnusson said loudly from the Devgru ranks. But what's your name? It's not Kestrel, is it?

_ No, indeed, Kestrel said calmly, although I prefer being called Kestrel. My real name is Mikhail Loskov.

He said his name in the Russian way, with a guttural sound for the "kh", and around him Briggs could see the people were impressed and flabbergasted at once. Then Forrester said sadly:

_ Then it means that we'll lose Yarmolenko _and_ Marler. That's a pity.

_ The infiltration was necessary for our mission, Sam explained calmly, but I'm sure you'll overcome the shock. But now we should move on to a much more serious matter.

Briggs saw his boss gesturing at the NCIS agents that they could proceed, and he sat while the grey-haired supervisory agent said loudly, checking his notepad:

_ All right! As you probably all know, there's been a rape here yesterday evening. The two suspects are in custody, but we have an investigation to run. So we'll question all the witnesses here, and after that you'll be free to go. So I would like to see Rojas, Norwood, Magnusson, Chester, Sakho, Richardson, Forrester, Akira, Marler and Yarmolenko. Or, should I say, agents Briggs and Kestrel. The rest of you can go out.

Briggs remained seated like his tablemates while the other people around them rose to their feet and exited the mess. And soon only the witnesses of the rape remained, with Sam staying with them. Briggs waited his turn to be questioned, watching Kestrel rising and following the NCIS supervisory agent to a corner of the mess out of earshot. But soon a NCIS agent called him out:

_ Agent Briggs, if you'd follow me?

He got up and went to another corner, where the agent told him to sit down. The guy said calmly:

_ Agent Briggs, I'm special agent McGee. I'd like you to recount me the events of yesterday evening, please.

_ Okay, Briggs said calmly, trying to shut down the disturbing images rushing in his mind. So after dinner, we went to the obstacle course with my group, Forrester had asked Kestrel to help him with techniques to save time. Stuart hadn't wanted to come, she told us she was tired. We were reaching the wooden ladder when Kestrel heard somebody needing help.

_ That's what he told you? Mc Gee asked, frowning. "Somebody needs help"?

_ Word for word, Briggs nodded. He ran through the woods, and we were trying to follow him, and...

_ What do you mean, "trying"?

_ My partner is very fast, Briggs explained calmly, he runs like the wind. But we could hear him ahead of us, so we were able to follow him easily. And when we approached the clearing, I heard a woman moaning, and sobs. And laughter, a man was laughing.

He paused, closing his eyes, but that was a mistake. The scene surged in front of his closed eyelids, making him want to throw up.

_ Take a deep breath, agent Briggs, the NCIS agent said kindly. Take your time.

_ Okay, he nodded, opening his eyes again. So when we arrived in the clearing, one of the men was already on the ground, a bruise on his temple, and Kestrel was fighting with the other. Stuart was sprawled on the ground, half-naked and in shock. Richardson ran to call for help, Akira went next to Stuart to take care of her, and Kestrel hit the Seal who fell like a dead weight. I checked on him and saw that his neck was broken. Soon Rojas and Norwood arrived with Devgru men, and they arrested the other Seal who had awoken. But Kestrel was so mad he wanted to attack him again, and we had to restrain him. Stuart left with some paramedics, and my partner went to jail.

_ Okay, agent Briggs, the NCIS guy nodded. Your story is quite straightforward. I'll ask you to stay in the mess a little longer if I have some more questions for you, but I think I won't need it.

The agent got up, and Briggs imitated him. He walked back to the table, and McGee asked, checking his own notepad:

_ Petty Officer Forrester?

Forrester rose, clapping Briggs' shoulder, and followed the NCIS agent. Briggs sat next to Sam and saw with concern that his teammate was still with the NCIS supervisory agent. But Kestrel looked calm, even smiling a little, and the agent opposite him was smiling too. Briggs asked his boss:

_ Who's this agent?

_ The one with Kestrel? He's called Gibbs, and he's a former Marine sergeant. He's got quite a reputation in the Navy, I heard.

_ Will it be okay for Kestrel?

_ I think so, Sam nodded calmly. Kestrel was in self-defence, protecting Stuart, so no charges should be pressed against him. Gibbs is an understanding man.

_ And what about the boat?

_ The Foxtrot Platoon of the Devgru will soon leave to destroy it. Your friends Magnusson and Chester are in it, so they'll be on their way after being questioned. That's why they're currently both with NCIS agents.

_ Has Kestrel told you that Magnusson, Chester and two of their buddies forced him to do push-ups on the fists to keep his beard?

_ No, Sam said, arching his eyebrows. Tell me.

_ Well, it started as soon as we set foot on the base, Briggs said with a small smile, and his tablemates were listening too. Chief Warrant Officer Norwood there told him to shave during the first dinner, but of course you know Kestrel wasn't going to obey. So the following morning, he forced Kestrel to defy him with normal push-ups, and Kestrel beat him.

Sam smirked, and Briggs smiled too, recalling the scene. He went on:

_ The same day, we were here in the mess when the four Devgru noticed Kestrel's beard, and they forced him to do push-ups on the fists right here, between tables and in front of the whole base, to keep it. And the assholes relayed each other to make Kestrel crack. But he beat all four of them.

_ How many push-ups? Sam asked curiously.

_ Five hundred and twenty, Richardson chimed in. Quite a performance.

_ Indeed, Sam grinned broadly. I told the Vice-Admiral that my ops were the best.

_ Yes, Akira acknoweledged. Marler, or rather agent Briggs, is very strong and talented too. You would've made a good Seal, Marler.

_ Thanks, Briggs said, moved.

_ Yes, Richardson said sadly as Forrester sat down, it'll be more difficult without you two.

_ You'll all become Seals, Briggs said earnestly. I don't doubt it. You deserve it. And now that Kestrel showed you some tricks and gave you the key to success, as Rojas said, you'll succeed.

_ What key to success? Sam asked curiously.

_ The Ukrainian pierogies, Sakho said, stifling a laugh.

Richardson and Forrester snorted in laughter, and soon the tablemates were laughing their heads off, under the startled stares of Sam and the other people in the mess. Briggs wiped his tears, trying to regain composure, and told his bewildered boss:

_ You'll ask Kestrel for the story of the Ukrainian pierogies, Sam. But let's just say that he saved our lives while telling us about it during a ten-kilometer running.

_ Stuart told me that she had loved hearing him telling it, Akira said seriously, bringing back grim faces around the table. It had given her the courage not to give up.

Silence fell for a few seconds, then Briggs asked her cautiously:

_ Has she got a crush on him?

Akira locked eyes with him, hesitating, then she said slowly:

_ I think so. Will it turn good for her?

Briggs shook his head in dismay, and next to him Sam grimaced. The ops explained:

_ Kestrel is still in love with a woman who died two years ago. He keeps the beard for her, and vowed never to shave again. That's why he fought so hard to keep it against all the Seals. And I don't think he's ready to move on yet.

He saw sad looks and compassionate expressions, but he turned his gaze towards Kestrel. His best friend was on his feet, chatting calmly with Gibbs, and soon strode towards the table. Sam and Briggs rose and Sam asked the NCIS agent:

_ Is it okay, agent Gibbs? Can we leave?

_ Yes, the agent nodded seriously. I have your number if I have more questions.

_ Yes, Sam said with a smile. Well, it's time to go, boys!

_ We still have to gather our things, Sam, Kestrel said. I spent the night in jail.

_ Your bag is ready, mate, Briggs winked at him, feeling proud. I made it this morning with mine, they're already in the van.

_ Oh! Kestrel looked surprised but soon smiled at him. Well, thanks, мой друг _(my friend)._

 ___ What does that mean? Richardson asked, puzzled. "Moy droog"?

_ It means "my friend", Briggs answered him. Kestrel speaks perfect English, but sometimes his Russian roots resurface, and especially when he's furious.

_ Like yesterday evening, Forrester nodded. I understand.

_ Petty Officer Richardson? Gibbs asked a little impatiently, staring at them with intense blue eyes.

_ Coming, sir, Richardson said.

The Navy guy shook Briggs' and Kestrel's hands, and said seriously:

_ Good luck, guys. It's been an honour.

_ Same, Briggs said with emotion.

Richardson nodded and followed the NCIS agent, and Briggs shook hands with the rest of his tablemates. The faces were wistful and sad, but he hoped that someday he would see them again as Navy Seals. Akira told Kestrel while shaking his hand:

_ Don't forget Stuart, please.

_ I'll go right now, Kestrel said.

She nodded, and Magnusson and Chester came next to them.

_ About to leave? Magnusson asked. You can't leave without accompanying us to our ride! We're going at sea, thanks to you!

Briggs and Kestrel shot a questioning look at Sam, and the Splinter Cell relented.

_ Okay, but make it quick. We have a package to take delivery of.

Leblanc, Briggs thought immediately. And as they set off towards the waiting Jeep, Sam confirmed it.

_ Our French friend will be landing at 1 pm at Dulles.

_ Good, Kestrel nodded calmly. I'll be able to pick up my car.

_ So it's nearly over, then? Briggs asked hopefully.

_ Yes, sonny, Sam said, smiling at him. You'll have a few days with your girlfriend at last.

Briggs nodded, rejoicing inwardly. He couldn't wait to be with Molly, enjoying her presence, and most of all talking with her about their future.

_ You have a family, agent Briggs? Chester asked from behind the wheel.

_ My girlfriend is pregnant, he announced proudly.

_ Congratulations! the two Devgru said, and Briggs noticed a wide grin on Kestrel's face.

They reached the docks, on the shore of the Atlantic ocean in Chesapeake Bay, and Briggs saw, while climbing down, a large helicopter waiting for the Devgru men on a nearby helipad. Ten men were already on board, and Magnusson and Chester turned to face them.

_ Well, this is goodbye, Magnusson said with a sad smile. We'll take care of your boat. I hope we'll see you again someday. And agent Kestrel?

Kestrel turned his gaze towards the Seal, and Briggs saw that he looked distracted. But the Devgru went on:

_ Now you can tell us. Which team would have chosen Yarmolenko?

Kestrel smiled a little and said, shooting an admirative glance at Sam:

_ I think I'd have chosen a special team to honour a man I regard as a father, a man for whom I have a great respect. Thus, I'd have chosen the Team 6.

Magnusson shook his head dejectedly while Briggs saw Sam, eyes bright, going in front of Kestrel and embracing him warmly. The ops hugged his boss and friend, but above Sam's shoulder his eyes suddenly became fixed and full of horror. Before Briggs could react Kestrel tackled Sam, bringing him down, and ran towards him. Then as Kestrel reached him he heard a shot, and his friend jerked sideways as he tackled him.

Briggs, disoriented, fell on the ground, but next to him Kestrel was already on his feet. Magnusson shouted something and the Devgru hopped out of the chopper, while Sam looked groggy on the ground. Briggs turned and saw Kestrel running fast towards the quay to a boat, where a single man was hastily putting down a rifle and bending on the booth.

Just as the boat's motors ignited Kestrel jumped aboard, and tackled the man. The Devgru were closing in fast, and Briggs heard Sam behind him, shouting:

_ Get him!

Briggs scrambled to his feet, and the two of them ran towards the quay. Aboard the drifting boat Kestrel was still fighting the man, obviously a Seal, wrestling for the rifle. Magnusson and Chester hopped on board just as a second round was shot from the rifle, and Briggs yelled as Kestrel's temple became bloody. The ops, clearly hit, fell backwards, but he was on the edge of the rail. He toppled over, and under Briggs' terrified stare he fell into the sea.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

_ Well, Kestrel thought dimly as his conscience wandered off, this is it.

He was sinking in the water, pain on the side of his head and in his left arm, where the bullet meant for Briggs had entered his body instead. He could feel that his temple was only grazed, but he was losing consciousness fast, and he knew then that he would drown. A stupid death, he told himself calmly, but at least Sam and Briggs were safe. And as his mind was falling into the black void, water filled his lungs, bringing an unbearable pain, and he blacked out.

When he opened his eyes, he was very surprised to see he was lying on his back in a sunny clearing, the wind making the leaves rustling softly above his head. He could hear water running to his left, and he recognized the sound. Heart filling with joy and relief he sat up, and saw that he was in the waterfall's clearing near Fourth Echelon's chalet in Boise. A delicious smell of cooked fish was wafting in the air, and he heard a cherished voice rising:

_ Hi, Misha! Come and have some fish!

He turned his head and joy, relief and love rushed in his heart. Sitting next to a low fire, Alpha was smiling at him, removing a pike from a pit and putting it on a dish. She beckoned at him again and said with a beam:

_ Come, we must talk.

He rose and ran to her. She had barely time to put the dish on the ground before he hugged her tightly and kissed her passionately, his chest filling with joy and pain. They kissed and cuddled for a few seconds, but at last she pulled away and said:

_ It's nice to see you, Misha. But we really must talk. We don't have much time.

_ Am I dead? Kestrel asked her calmly while sittting on the ground next to her.

_ Not yet, she said very calmly, handing him the dish after tearing apart some fish flesh. You're about to die, though. You've drowned, and you're not breathing. Only your heart and brain are still keeping you alive.

_ But I feel fine, he said, bewildered. Where are we? Why are you here, then?

_ We are in one of your best memories, Alpha explained kindly while eating. One that matters hugely for you. Delicious, that pike, by the way. And I'm here to offer you the usual choice.

_ Life or death? he said, taking some of the fish and eating too.

_ Yes, but it's more than that.

She shot him a serious look, and he understood.

_ James, he said.

_ Yes, she nodded. It's not only your life that is at stake here, Misha. If you die now, he'll die too.

_ But what if I don't want to go back?

She smiled and her eyes sparkled. His heart melted, but he felt a sharp pain in his chest.

_ Ouch! What's happening to me?

_ Sam's giving you CPR, Alpha answered calmly, picking some more fish. He's very intent on saving you. And that was a nice thing you said to him.

_ I meant it, Kestrel said, joy in his heart. He's really like a father to me, and Briggs is my best friend.

_ Then tell him, Alpha advised him. He needs support, with the baby coming.

_ So I'll have to live, Kestrel said, a little disappointed.

_ That's up to you, Alpha told him, but you're not selfish, my love. And James needs you. Fourth Echelon needs you. They won't be able to bear your death.

_ But I've missed you so much, he confessed, tears in his eyes. I don't want to be parted from you again.

_ Misha, she said, locking eyes with him. I'm dead, and you're alive. You still have so much to live. I wish I could be with you, but we can't be together. And about that, I wanted to tell you something important.

He saw her eyes full of love riveted into his, and she said seriously:

_ I love you, and you love me. I think it'll be like that until the end. But I'm dead, and you have much love to give. So I wanted to tell you that if you fall in love again with another woman and start a family of your own, not only it won't be a betrayal of my memory, but you also have my blessing. And I'd like seeing you as a loving husband and father.

_ Alpha, I... I can't...

His heart wrenched in dismay. He loved her so much it was inconceivable for him to think about falling in love with another woman. But she smiled kindly as the pain in his chest increased and said:

_ Oh, I know you're not ready. It'll take you many more years, I expect. But when the time comes, think about what I said. And next time we meet, I want you to show me a photo of your wife and children. But the time has come, Misha. So, life or death?

He inhaled deeply, his chest hurting like mad, and he said:

_ I need to save James, I can't let him and his family down. And I can't let _my_ family down. I'll live.

_ Good, she said, rising as the pain overwhelmed him.

He fell backwards, lying down, and she went above him, smiling kindly.

_ So it's farewell for now, Misha, my love, she said. Good luck. And brace yourself.

_ For what? he stammered.

_ The pain, she said apologetically. When water fills your lungs, it's just horrible. But when it goes out... it's ten times worse.

_ Wonderful, he croaked.

_ Can you hear Sam? Alpha asked him. Listen.

He listened, and heard from far away the anguished voice of his boss, saying and panting:

_ Come on, sonny, breathe! I told you you wouldn't die on me! So breathe!

_ I can't die now, Kestrel nodded, an intense pain in his lungs. I love you, Alpha.

_ Love you too, Misha, she said.

She bent over and kissed him a last time, and suddenly his diaphragm heaved. He started to cough, feeling water exiting his lungs, and inhaled a sharp breath. The pain was beyond everything he had ever experienced, but he coughed again and more water poured out of him. He felt strong hands making him roll on his side, and he coughed and retched, his chest horribly painful. Around him he heard cries of relief, and Briggs said:

_ Holy shit! Kestrel! You came back!

_ Welcome back, sonny, Sam's voice rose, still jerky due to his efforts for the CPR but full of emotion.

But he was still coughing water, and his head, chest and arm hurt. He felt dizzy and cold, but he forced his eyes open when he had spat out all the salted water out of his lungs. He breathed deeply and loudly, and rolled on his back. He was shivering, but he was alive. He saw Sam's and Briggs' blurred faces bending over him, and Sam said:

_ Are you all right?

_ Feel like a half-drowned man, he whispered, his chest still hurting like mad. But I'm alive. You saved me.

_ After you saved us, Sam said with a watered smile. I didn't want you to die, sonny.

_ The man with the rifle?

_ The Devgru arrested him, Briggs said, wiping away tears of relief. You know I thought you were dead, mate? Don't ever do this again!

_ I'm sorry, Kestrel murmured, his head spinning more and more. Didn't want to make my best friend worried.

He saw through his fuzzy sight Briggs' beam, and he shivered again. Sam told him:

_ The Devgru are coming, Kestrel. They'll bring you to the infirmary.

_ Please don't call Dr Collins, Kestrel said weakly, making Sam and Briggs chuckle. He'll kill me.

_ Hey, agent Kestrel! he heard Magnusson's loud voice next to him. Glad you're alive! Here!

Kestrel felt a blanket covering him, and he said, feeling his forces slipping out of him:

_ Thanks. Sam?

_ Yes, sonny?

_ I have a bullet in my left arm. Near the shoulder.

_ Shit.

He felt Sam removing the blanket from his arm and heard ripping sounds, then felt something pressed against his arm, as Sam called out loudly:

_ We need a medic! He's wounded!

_ The doc's coming, Magnusson's voice rose, sounding concerned. He'll be there in a minute.

_ Okay, Sam exhaled. Kestrel, just stay awake.

_ As usual, he commented, but he heard only a mumble. His eyes were closing in spite of himself, and he felt himself losing consciousness again.

* * *

When he woke up, he was lying on a rather stiff bed, under thick blankets, in a dimly-lit room. An IV was connected to his right arm, and the left one was in the inevitable sling. He thought he was alone until he saw a silhouette reclining back in an armchair, and recognized Briggs' soft breathing. Smiling slightly, he softly called him out:

_ Briggs? Briggs! Wake up, мой друг!

Briggs started and looked at him in surprise, and said:

_ Kestrel! You're awake!

_ As you can see, he smiled.

He tried to sit up but failed, stifling a groan.

_ Hey, there! Easy! Briggs said, getting up and coming right next to him. You've got five broken ribs!

_ Yes, now I feel them, Kestrel grimaced, reclining back on his pillows.

Briggs sat on the edge of the mattress and took the remote control of his bed, raising the upper part of it so he was in a sitting position. He said:

_ You had surgery for the bullet in your arm, but the wound is okay and your arm still operational. Your head is okay, and there's no water left in your lungs.

_ Okay, he nodded. So I'm all right, except the ribs. Sam's doing?

_ Probably.

_ Doesn't matter. I'd rather have broken ribs than be dead. I have a baby to save.

Briggs stared at him gravely, and Kestrel felt dread rising in his chest.

_ Are they okay? The twins?

_ They're still alive, Briggs said seriously, but James need the transplant as soon as possible. Ben Woodridge had some of his bone marrow taken yesterday and Mary received it right afterwards. She's already better, but it'll take time, of course. We were waiting for you to wake up to go to Johns Hopkins.

_ Then let's go! Kestrel said, pushing away his blankets and wanting to rise.

But Briggs pushed him back in his bed and said:

_ It's five in the morning, mate. We'll go in a few hours, but for now it's useless.

Kestrel sighed deeply, and his ribs made him pay straight away, making him wince. He asked:

_ So, who's the guy who shot me?

_ One of Coxville's men, Briggs answered calmly, taking his blankets and covering him back. When Mancini exited the room, he took his menace towards us very seriously, and decided to kill us. Fortunately for us you protected us, mate. Thanks again.

_ I couldn't let my best friend die before he could hold his child in his arms, Kestrel said with a small smile.

Briggs pursed his lips, clearly forcing down his emotion, and held out his hand. Kestrel took it and they shook hands, speaking without words. Then Kestrel said:

_ What about Leblanc? He has arrived in the US, hasn't he?

_ As a matter of fact, Briggs said with a grimace, he hasn't.

_ What? But Sam told us...

_ Yes, but Leblanc's plane missed his landing at Dulles. The tail of the plane smashed into a nearby terminal, and unfortunately that's where Leblanc was. He's dead. We count twenty casualties for the moment, and more than a hundred injured people.

_ Боже мой! _(My God!)_

_ Yeah, that's not pretty. But at least, the Meggido problem is solved for now.

_ And the boat?

_ Our Devgru friends did a great job, Briggs said with a smile. The boat sank after a quick fight. No casualties among the Team 6, but several in the bad guy's ranks.

_ That's good news.

_ Oh! And I have a message for you.

Kestrel shot a surprised look at his teammate, and Briggs said with a large grin:

_ Stuart wants to see you before you leave. She's next door, and she asked me to come and fetch her as soon as you're awake.

_ You're not going to go and see her now, are you?

_ Well, I made a promise, Briggs winked at him. So I'll go now and leave the two of you.

_ Briggs...

_ It's okay, mate. I won't be far, and I'll call Sam. He wanted to have news. And she's not going to bite, you know?

_ Probably not, Kestrel sighed, covering himself better with his blankets.

_ Good. See you later.

Briggs rose and left, leaving Kestrel with his mind in disarray. What could he say to Stuart? What was she expecting from him? Much too soon he heard a soft knock on the door, and he said:

_ Come in.

The door opened, and Stuart went in. She looked like her usual self, with her fatigues and smile, but he could see that her eyes were haunted, she was broken from the inside. He said:

_ Hi, Stuart. Please sit down.

She grabbed Briggs' armchair and dragged it next to the bed.

_ Hi, Yarmolenko.

_ It's Kestrel, actually, he said kindly. I suppose my teammate told you about us?

_ Yes, he did, she nodded, but for me you're still Yarmolenko. The man who rescued me and avenged me.

_ My honour, he said calmly. And I would've liked to do a little bit more to the other bastard.

_ No, it's good, Stuart said with a trembling smile. He'll be kicked out of the Navy and will probably go to jail, so that's okay with me.

_ How are you? Kestrel asked her gently.

She dissolved into tears, and he felt bad about her state. He knew she was devastated and would need time to heal, but she was strong. He told her:

_ Time will ease your pain. Believe me, I know. I've suffered a great deal in my life, but I'm still there. You're gonna live through the ordeal. You just need time.

She nodded and said:

_ Thanks, Yarmolenko. I mean, Kestrel. Your teammate told me that you were keeping your beard in memory of your dead girlfriend. Is that true?

_ Yes, he said calmly, a pang of pain in his heart. It's true.

_ You still love her, don't you?

_ Yes. But why are you asking me this?

She raised her eyes, and he read the answer. She was in love with him. But he didn't love her, and never would. He had only one woman in his heart, and it wasn't the nice woman sitting next to him. She said, tears in her voice:

_ I just wanted to thank you. You've given me the courage to press charges against the bastards who treated me like a nobody. And thanks to you I know I'll heal someday. Seeing you fighting to defend me proved me that I was still a woman, and not tossed junk. I hope you'll get well soon.

She rose and turned away, but he said:

_ Wait!

She faced him again, tears streaming down her cheeks, and he said, regret filling his guts:

_ I'm sorry. I just can't love somebody else for now. But I'm sure you'll get better and one day, you'll find a man who'll love you with all his heart and see the wonderful person you are.

She abruptly ran to him and kissed him. Startled, he wanted to pull away but thought otherwise. It would shatter her, he knew it. So he closed his eyes and gently kissed her back. There was no love in it, only respect and warmth. But when she pulled away, she was smiling a little.

_ Thanks, Kestrel. I'll never forget you.

_ Me neither, he said earnestly.

She turned and went out, and this time he let her go. He had done all he could. Now she would have to find her path, alone, but she would find it.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

When Briggs called him, Sam had been asleep for only two hours in his hotel bedroom, so he was exhausted. But he answered his ops nevertheless, as he was eager to have news about Kestrel's state.

_ Yes?

_ Sam, it's Briggs. Do I wake you up?

_ Yes, but it doesn't matter. How's Kestrel?

_ He's awake and eager to go to Johns Hopkins. But his broken ribs hurt him.

_ I should've been more cautious, Sam said, rubbing his face as he sat up.

_ Don't worry, Sam. As he told me, he'd rather have broken ribs than be dead.

_ Good spirit, Sam smiled.

_ You sound exhausted, Sam. Have you slept a little?

_ About two hours, he admitted, getting up and gathering some clothes. I couldn't find sleep.

_ I see.

Sam heard Briggs' concern in these two simple words, but there was nothing he could do. Sam was worried sick about his grandchildren's state, but he couldn't do anything either except bring Kestrel to hospital. He asked:

_ Are you ready to leave?

_ Yes, Briggs said. Kestrel won't be able to stay in bed much longer, I'm afraid.

_ Okay. I'll ask Dr Collins to join us in Baltimore.

_ Are you sure this is a good idea?

_ It's necessary. Only he knows Kestrel's medical file, the hospital can't access it since it's classified.

_ Okay. See you in, what? Ten minutes?

_ Fifteen, Sam said. We'll go to the Paladin by plane, courtesy of the CIA.

_ Nice of them, Briggs sniggered.

_ They have a lot to pay back, more like.

Briggs chuckled, then said:

_ I'll try and find the doc.

_ See you later.

Sam hung up and finished dressing. He splashed some water on his face, but he had bags under his eyes. You'll sleep when your grandchildren are safe, Fisher, he told himself grimly. He ached to phone Grim, but he would have time to do so while in the plane. But he took the time to phone Dr Collins, who promised to be there in the hospital and meet them in an hour.

Then he left his room and took Briggs' car to the Naval Base, where he parked easily at this early hour, and headed to the infirmary, escorted by the nice Ensign Otis. There he heard Kestrel in the corridor, obviously arguing with the doctor, and Sam soon saw them, facing each other, an adamant expression on their faces.

_ And I'm telling you I'm leaving, doc! Kestrel said loudly. I understand your concern, but it's of vital importance and I won't change my mind!

_ Agent Kestrel, it's madness! the doc replied angrily. I know that the risks are low, but they exist! After what you've been through, it's...

_ It's my choice, Kestrel cut him sharply as Sam reached him and Briggs facing the seething doc. I'm leaving, doc! Thanks for everything.

And Kestrel strode towards the door, only nodding at Sam, and the Splinter Cell followed him with Briggs outside the building. Once out, Sam asked Briggs:

_ What's the matter?

_ The doc didn't want Kestrel leaving, his ops answered him. He told him that two general anesthetics given in less than twenty-four hours were very risky. But Kestrel is quite stubborn, as you well know.

_ Is it true? Sam asked in dismay. What risks?

_ Cardiac arrest, Kestrel said in front of him, not turning back and still advancing towards the gate. Memory losses, coma, confusion, nausea, and so on. The usual bullshit.

_ Kestrel, maybe you...

_ Just shut up, Sam! Kestrel spat. I'm going to Johns Hopkins and I will have my bone marrow taken today for James, and that's my final word!

Sam stayed silent, hearing Kestrel's rage. They reached the gate, and Ensign Otis saluted them and wished them well. Then Sam gave Briggs his keys, and the ops drove them to Norfolk, where the CIA jet was waiting for them. They hopped on board, Sam telling Briggs that he would ask Ollie to come and fetch his car, and the plane took off five minutes later.

During the whole flight, Kestrel didn't unclench his teeth, clearly fed up with doctors and their cautious advice. Sam and Briggs left him alone, and Briggs fell asleep right after take-off. Sam phoned Grim, and she picked up the line at the first ringing.

_ Grim.

_ Honey, it's me.

_ Sam! What news?

_ We're flying to Baltimore. We should land in forty-five minutes, then we'll go to Johns Hopkins straight away. Do you want to come too?

_ Of course! she said calmly enough, but he could hear the strain on her shoulders.

_ How are they? Any news from Sarah since yesterday?

_ She sent me a message this morning. Mary is slowly recovering. James is slowly dying. Sam, it's now or never.

_ I know. It'll be all right. Kestrel is ready.

_ Is he okay?

_ Yes.

_ Good. Then see you very soon. I'll have the van ready, and I'll phone Sarah.

_ Thanks, honey, Sam said with emotion.

As he hung up, he saw Kestrel's gaze on him. The ops asked him darkly:

_ And you thought about delaying the operation? James is dying, Sam. Like Grim said, it's now or never.

_ Wait! Sam said in alarm. You heard the conversation? How...?

_ I have a good hearing, Kestrel answered grimly. Usually I don't spy conversations, but right now I'm fed up with all the "ifs" and "should" and "might". So I trust you to back me up, Sam. I know all the doctors will want to wait and tell me my life is at stake. And I just don't care, as long as I live enough to save James. Right?

Sam locked eyes with his ops, who was sitting rather stiffly on his seat, his left arm in a sling tightly pressed against his aching chest. But Kestrel's eyes were clear and determined, and Sam knew he wouldn't back down. He would take all the risks to save his boss' grandson, Sam just could tell. So he nodded and said:

_ I swear I'll support you, Kestrel. But I don't want you to die.

_ Better me than James, Kestrel said calmly. And believe me, I have no intention to die. I still have work to do within Fourth Echelon and great things to live among my family and friends. So I'll have the bone marrow taking today and all will be well.

_ Okay, Kestrel.

_ Good, the ops nodded, then closed his eyes and reclined his head against his seat.

So Sam gave himself the rest of the flight to have some rest, and soon drifted into an uneasy sleep. The landing woke him up, and he shook Briggs' shoulder. Kestrel was looking out the small window, still looking angry, so Sam didn't talk to him. They hastily disembarked as the plane stopped, and Grim drove the black van just at the base of the ramp. They climbed in, and Grim floored the accelerator.

_ Hi, guys! she said to the two ops. How was the flight?

_ Hi, Grim! Briggs said calmly. Fine. I slept all along.

_ Hi, Grim, Kestrel simply said.

_ How are you?

Only Briggs answered, saying:

_ We survived the Seals. A good thing. Their training is truly a nightmare. But we met some nice guys and girls.

_ That's good, she said with a small smile.

But Sam, seated next to her, saw her shooting a worried glance in the rearview mirror towards Kestrel. He asked her:

_ So you phoned Sarah?

_ Yes, she said. She told me James would be ready as soon as Kestrel was.

_ I am ready, the ops chimed up calmly.

_ I don't doubt it, Grim said, but apparently the surgeon is worrying about your state. He said...

_ To hell with his qualms! Kestrel suddenly burst out. James can't wait any longer, for heaven's sake! Sam, phone Dr Collins! He needs to back us up!

_ Will do, Kestrel, Sam said calmly, taking out his smartphone.

He dialed the doc's number, and the line was picked up at the first ringing.

_ Collins.

_ Doc, it's Sam.

_ Where are you, Sam?

_ We'll arrive in about twenty minutes, doc. What about the surgeon?

_ He's making difficulties, I'm afraid. Says it's too dangerous for agent Kestrel after he nearly died yesterday.

_ Doc, Sam said seriously, feeling his ops' burning stare behind him, tell him it's Kestrel's choice. He won't have it otherwise and will accept all the consequences.

_ I know, Sam. But it's not so simple. Agent Kestrel will have to write his instructions very clearly in case of death, and name one or two trusted persons to take care of his last wills. And he'll have to sign a waiver for the impending risks.

_ Don't worry, I'm sure he'll do it without blinking.

_ Okay, then I'll speak with the surgeon again. It's true the state of your grandson is quite critical. Any delay for the transplant could be fatal.

_We'll soon be there, Sam said in anguish. Do your best, doc, please.

_ As usual, Sam.

The doc hung up, and Sam shot a look at Kestrel. He saw that his ops had listened again to the conversation and asked him:

_ Have you got a notepad and a pen?

_ Yes, Grim answered him. In the glove compartment, Sam.

Sam extracted them, and Kestrel asked him:

_ Could you write for me, Sam, please? I still have difficulties with your alphabet, it would take me hours to write a simple will.

_ Okay, Kestrel, Sam nodded, masking his emotion. Whenever you want.

_ I, Mikhail Andreyevitch Loskov, being of sound body and mind, wish to make my last will and testament, Kestrel dictated very calmly. Should anything happen to me during any operation, I want everything to be done to take all necessary bone marrow, fluids or organs to help James Samuel Woodridge. And should I fall into a deep and irreversible coma, I ask my dear and close friends Isaac Briggs and Samuel Fisher to see and have my life support switched off.

Sam's hand started to shake in anguish, but he inhaled a deep breath and went on writing. Behind him Briggs was saying:

_ Mate, how could we do that? We...

_ I trust you, мой друг _(my friend)_ , Kestrel cut him kindly. I know that you'll find the strength if it comes to that. But never again will I linger in a deep coma without hope of seeing daylight. It's just too horrible.

Sam saw Briggs nodding gravely, upset like him, and Kestrel went on:

_ Should I die during or after any operation, or in line of duty, or naturally, I wish to have a religious funeral with an Eastern Orthodox Christian priest, and be buried in the Mount Olivet cemetery of Baltimore, in Alpha's grave.

Next to him, Sam heard Grim sobbing quietly, and he took time to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Then he wrote again Kestrel's last wishes.

_ All my possessions will belong to the Fourth Echelon team, who will dispose of them as they'll see fit. Written in Baltimore on the 7th of May, 2016.

Sam, forcing down his tears, handed Kestrel the notepad and the pen, and his ops signed his will. Then he gave them back to Sam who carefully removed the sheet of paper and folded it before giving it to his ops, who pocketed it with a smile.

_ Thanks, Sam.

_ Kestrel, I...

_ Please, Sam, Kestrel said calmly. I'm sure nothing will happen. It's just a precaution the doctor chickens want. You won't need it. But could you give me the notepad and pen, please?

_ Sure, he said in dismay.

He watched Kestrel, unable to use his left arm, balancing the notepad on his knees and writing in neat Cyrillic characters what looked like a letter. Then he asked Briggs to remove the sheet of paper and fold it, then put it in his pocket with his will. He said calmly, handing back the pen and notepad to Sam:

_ I've written a letter for James in case I die during the operation. I'm afraid it's in Russian, but I know you'll be able to translate it when he's older.

_ Kestrel, Briggs said, wiping away the sad tears running on his cheeks. Just don't die, you bastard!

_ I have no intention to die, мой друг. But better be prepared for the worst.

Sam saw Kestrel put his free hand on Briggs' shoulder, and Briggs nodded gravely. Grim was also wiping her tears next to him, and he asked her softly:

_ Are you okay? Do you want me to drive?

_ No, Sam, it's okay, she said, taking a deep breath. We're almost there.

And two minutes later, she parked the van in the great parking lot. Sam hastily climbed down and led the way to the hall of the hospital, where Dr Collins was waiting for them. They shook hands, and the doc asked Kestrel:

_ Are you ready, agent Kestrel?

_ I am, the ops said firmly.

_ Then follow me, please.

Dr Collins led them to the surgery unit, where Sam saw Ben and a surgeon waiting for them in a long corridor. Everybody shook hands, and Ben said with a trembling voice:

_ Thank you so much, Kestrel. James really needs you now. Sarah sends her regards and warm thanks too.

_ My honour, Kestrel said calmly.

_ Agent Kestrel, the surgeon said, I'm Dr Van Butten, and I'm the one who'll take your bone marrow and give it to James Woodridge. Can we talk for a minute?

_ Yes, of course.

_ In private?

The surgeon shuffled on his feet, visibly ill at ease. Kestrel smirked.

_ Believe me, doc, it's better if my team stays around me. For your own safety.

_ Okay, he capitulated, probably sensing Kestrel's boiling temper. Let's get to your room.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

The surgeon led them to a nearby bedroom, and turned to face Kestrel.

_ Agent Kestrel, Dr Collins told me about you nearly drowning yesterday and the surgery of your arm. I know the baby's state is critical, but you really risk your life with a second general anesthetic so close from the first. Even if you seem to be strong and tough, we can't dismiss the possibility of a cardiac arrest or a coma. Are you sure you want to do this?

Sam saw Kestrel sighing deeply, forcing down his impatience and fury, and saying with a firm voice:

_ Yes, I'm sure. I know the possible consequences and I accept them. My last will is ready in my pocket, and my friends Isaac Briggs and Sam Fisher will be my support persons. I trust them blindly to take all necessary decisions about me and my state in case of need. So let's get on with it.

Dr Van Butten stared a long time at him, then finally nodded.

_ Okay, you know what you're doing. On the nightstand you'll find a waiver to sign, for the insurance and the hospital's responsibility. And the form to fill for your support persons. Dr Collins and I will prepare the operation, we'll be back in about half an hour. Take off your clothes and put on the shirt on the bed, then lie down. Okay?

_ Okay, Kestrel nodded.

The two doctors exited the room, and Kestrel went straight to the nightstand. Sam watched him filling the form and signing the two sheets of paper, then turned towards him:

_ Sam? Briggs? I need your signing.

Sam, rubbing his face, went next to his ops and took the pen. He exhaled deeply before signing, and gave the pen to Briggs who was trembling. For a few seconds he feared that his ops would refuse to sign, but he finally did, looking upset. Then Kestrel said calmly:

_ Thank you. Now, I want you all to trust me. I'm not going to die, and James will be safe.

_ Kestrel, Grim said with a trembling voice, how can you be so certain? What if...?

_ I'm certain, he answered with a smile. Alpha told me yesterday we wouldn't see each other again for some time, and I trust her more than ever.

_ When...?

Sam was puzzled, but then he stopped himself. Kestrel had almost died the day before, he probably had seen the love of his life then. Imaginary or not, the vision had comforted his ops and given him the strength to face death again. So he simply said, forcing down the rising emotion:

_ We trust you, sonny. Just stay alive.

_ I will, Kestrel acknoweledged calmly. And if I have to die, I want you all to know that it's been a great honour and even greater pleasure to work with you and live among you. You are my family, thank you for everything.

Grim dissolved into tears and threw herself on Kestrel's shoulder. Looking awkward, the ops lightly embraced her and patted her on the back, and she pulled away after a few seconds. Then he said calmly:

_ Now please leave me. I must get ready.

Ben and Grim exited the room, and Sam went to embrace his ops. He hugged him and murmured to his ear:

_ See you later, sonny.

Kestrel hugged him and nodded, then his two ops embraced too. Kestrel looked serene, and that reassured Sam. He steered Briggs towards the door, and closed it behind him. They all went to a nearby waiting room and sat. Sam said, more to himself than his team and son-in-law:

_ He'll be okay. We worry too much. James and he will be okay very soon.

Ben and Briggs nodded grimly, and next to him Grim put her head on his shoulder. Then the waiting started. Several times Sam got up to have a coffee and stretch his legs. In his chair Briggs had fallen asleep, and Ben and Grim were talking quietly about the twins.

_ It'll take at least two weeks for the new cells to develop, Ben was explaining. In the meantime, they must stay in a sterile chamber with no visits. And of course they'll be closely watched in case of a transplant rejection.

_ I hope they'll be all right, Grim said, still looking upset. How's Sarah?

_ She's quite all right. She'll join us when James starts his transplantation.

About two hours later, Sam rose as Dr Collins was striding towards them, looking grim. He said loudly, waking Briggs with a start:

_ Doc? Is he okay? Did it go well?

The doc waited to be next to the group and said seriously:

_ Everything's all right. Agent Kestrel is okay, he's currently in the recovery room. The operation went quite well, although he did arrest for a few seconds. But before we could do anything his heart started to beat again, so all is well. I'll watch him closely for the next weeks, I'm sure he'll be delighted.

Sam couldn't help the smile, feeling relieved and breathing deeply again, and around him wide grins were appearing. Ben asked:

_ What about James?

_ The transplantation was starting when I left. It'll take around two hours, so you have time. I'll go and stay with agent Kestrel, and I'll tell you when he's back in his bedroom.

_ Thanks, doc, Sam said.

The doc left, and Sam hugged Grim tightly, wanting some comfort and warmth. She kissed him softly and said:

_ They'll both be okay. It's all right.

He nodded on her shoulder, allowing himself a minute of emotion, then pulled away. She gently wiped away the tear that had escaped his eye, and repeated:

_ It's okay. They'll be okay.

Sam heard footsteps behind him, and he turned. Sarah was approaching, looking relieved and anxious at the same time. Ben rushed forward and they hugged, and Sam's heart melted. They were so cute and in love that he was simply happy for them. Then Sarah went in front of her dad, and they hugged too.

_ How are you, honey? Sam asked her gently. And the babies?

_ I'm all right, Dad, she said bravely. Mary is better, she's got a strong appetite and powerful lungs.

_ Just like her grandpa, Grim chimed in, smiling.

_ Grim!

But Sam couldn't be mad at the wonderful love of his life, so he soon smiled back. And Sarah went on, smiling slightly too:

_ And James should be okay if he doesn't reject the transplant. The pediatrician told me that we were just in time. He has good chances of surviving now.

_ That's awesome news, kiddo! Sam said happily.

_ Indeed, Dad, she acknoweledged, but I can't wait to be home with them and Ben.

_ It'll happen soon, don't worry, he said calmly. Soon all these ordeals will be behind you.

She simply nodded, and they all sat back on the chairs. Sam saw that Briggs looked immensely relieved, like him, and was smiling faintly. Then his ops got up to phone Molly, his girlfriend, and soon came back with a frank smile on his face.

_ So how's Molly? Sam asked him.

_ She's fine, Briggs answered, and she'll be back from New York tomorrow.

_ That's great, sonny, Sam said with a smile. You'll have a week at least with her.

_ Really?

_ Yes, Sam nodded. After the Seals, I daresay you've earned a week of rest.

_ What? Ben asked. You've...

_ That's secret, Ben, Sam winked at his bewildered son-in-law. But yes, they were among the Seals. That reminds me, I have to ask Kestrel about the Ukrainian pierogies.

Briggs snorted in laughter while the group around him shot them a quizzical look. But before Grim could ask him anything, Dr Collins came back with a smile on his face.

_ Agent Kestrel is back. You can go and see him if you want.

Sam stood up and led the group to Kestrel's room. There he saw his ops, features relaxed, calmly sleeping on his bed. He had his sling back on but otherwise looked fine. Dr Collins went right next to him and called out:

_ Agent Kestrel! Wake up! Your team is here!

Sam saw Kestrel's eyes fluttering open, but his ops looked sleepy and his gaze was unfocused. Sam went next to him on the other side of the bed and asked him softly:

_ How are you feeling, Kestrel?

_ Я хочу спать _(I want to sleep)_ , his ops murmured.

_ Do you know where you are, agent Kestrel? the doc asked him, frowning.

_ Saint Petersburg, he answered weakly in Russian. Voron's headquarters.

_ Why do you think you're at Voron's headquarters? Sam asked him, his guts twisting in anxiety.

_ Pain in my hip, Kestrel answered absent-mindedly in Russian. The mission in Finland.

_ What happened in Finland?

_ I killed my target, but he shot me in the hip. Ivan brought me back to Russia. I need to thank him.

_ Kestrel, Sam said calmly, you're not in Russia. You're in Baltimore, in a hospital. Your hip is aching because you've got some bone marrow taken for James Woodridge. Do you remember?

_ Yes... James Woodridge. Sam's grandson. I don't want him to die.

This time Kestrel had spoken English, reassuring Sam.

_ He'll be okay, Kestrel, Sam said.

_ That's what Igor told Ivan when I left. "He'll be okay." Ivan has been killed, and I have been shot in the head and betrayed.

Sam surveyed his ops with concern, but Kestrel didn't look anguished. He was simply speaking facts, his eyelids drooping. And Kestrel said again before falling asleep:

_ So many dead people around me. But not James. Not James.

Dr Collins bent over him, checking his pulse and breathing, peering under his eyelids, then said:

_ He's sleeping. Everything's all right.

_ Did I hear correctly? Sarah asked in dismay. He's been shot in the head and betrayed?

_ Yes, Sam said, turning towards her. His worst memories. You know he was Russian before becoming American two years ago. He has a painful past, but he's slowly moving on.

_ Yeah, Briggs said with a grimace. Even wiping Kobin's slate clean.

_ That's his choice, Sam scowled. For my part, I'll never forgive him.

_ Who's this Kobin? Ben asked curiously.

_ A despicable man, Briggs said, but a useful source of information. Fortunately he's far away from us.

_ What did he do? Sarah asked, frowning.

Sam faced her, his heart wrenching at the memories of these years when he believed Sarah dead and Kobin pretending he had killed her. He inhaled deeply and said:

_ He wrecked Kestrel's life and mine. But no more about him. He doesn't deserve such interest.

_ You're right, Sam, Grim backed him up. We should let Kestrel sleep.

So they all went back to the waiting room, and Sam closed his eyes against the wall. He dozed off, exhausted, but awoke with a start when Dr Van Butten spoke two meters away from him:

_ Mr and Mrs Woodridge?

_ Yes! Ben and Sarah said loudly, jumping to their feet as Sam rose more slowly, shaking his drowsiness away. How is James?

_ He's all right, the surgeon said with a smile. The transplantation went well, he's sleeping. You can go and see him in his bedroom. But just the two of you.

_ Say hello for us, honey, Sam said, a pang of sadness in his heart.

_ Will do, Dad, she said, looking relieved.

The couple and the surgeon left, leaving the Fourth Echelon team and the doc. Sam said:

_ I don't think we'll be of any use for Kestrel until tomorrow. We should have something to eat and a good night's sleep.

_ I agree, Briggs nodded, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. Let's go back to the Paladin and tell Charlie.

_ I'll stay here with agent Kestrel, Dr Collins said. I'll keep you posted.

_ Thanks, doc, Sam told him gratefully. See you tomorrow then.

Grim drove them back to Baltimore's airport and Fourth Echelon's hangar after a stop at the closest drive-through, and Sam walked straight to his cabin. He put out his clothes and collapsed on his bed, falling asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

* * *

The ringing of his smartphone woke him up, and he blindly groped for it in the dark, still in a daze. He saw that it was 3.48 am, and that Dr Collins was calling him. He picked up the call.

_ Yes?

_ Sam, it's Dr Collins.

_ Doc? Is there a problem?

_ Yes, quite, the doc said anxiously. Agent Kestrel has disappeared.

_ What?

Sam sat bolt upright, fully awake. The doc went on:

_ He awoke briefly at 9 pm, but he was confused. He only talked in Russian, and I haven't been able to find anyone speaking it. He fell asleep ten minutes after waking, and I stayed next to him. But I woke up fifteen minutes ago, and he's gone! I tried to phone him, but his smartphone is switched off! He put his clothes back on and exited like a ghost, I didn't hear him!

_ Okay, doc, Sam said, hastily grabbing his clothes and putting them on. Don't blame yourself, he's trained to be silent. But he's not in the hospital?

_ I asked the staff, they saw him leaving! He was so calm and looking good that they thought he was a late visitor.

_ And he hasn't got his OPSAT, Sam raged, but he has his smartphone. We'll track him down, doc, don't worry. Please stay in the hospital in case he comes back. Maybe he's just having some fresh air. It has happened before.

_ I hope you're right, Dr Collins said. Please keep in touch.

Sam hung up and ran out of his cabin. He roused his team, and they met five minutes later in the control room. Sam switched on the SMI as Charlie launched the search for Kestrel's smartphone, bypassing the security systems. And soon...

_ He's at his place! Charlie said. Shipley Hill, that's his neighborhood. What's he doing there?

_ I'll call him home, Sam said.

He dialed Kestrel's phone in his apartment with the SMI, and after three ringings:

_ Привет? _(Hello?)_

_ Kestrel? It's Sam.

_ Кто? _(Who?)_

 ___ Sam, he said, exchanging a worried look with his team. Sam Fisher.

_ Yes, Sam Fisher, Kestrel muttered in Russian with a strange voice, like in a trance. An exceptional man. Now leave me alone, I have a mission to prepare.

_ What mission? Sam asked him, switching language and speaking Russian while his stomach filled with dread.

_ You know, the Indian spy, Kestrel mumbled. I have to neutralize him. But I don't know where I left my rifle. Will check the hideout.

_ Kestrel, listen, Sam said, still in Russian, sweating heavily and feeling tense. The mission has been cancelled. The spy has been arrested.

_ You're sure, Dyedushka?

_ I'm certain, Sam said, appalled. You can go back to sleep. I'll come to see you in a few minutes.

_ Okay, Kestrel said, still like in a trance. Funny, my bed is right here. How nice! Well, see you later, Dyedushka.

Kestrel hung up, and Sam wiped his sweaty forehead. Charlie asked him:

_ What's happening? Why were you speaking Russian?

_ He's confused, Sam said, running towards the cargo hold, his team behind him. He thinks he has a mission, and a target to kill. Charlie, stay here and keep your eyes on his smartphone. Call us if he moves.

_ Okay, Sam.

The tech backtracked inside the plane while Sam ran to the van, jumping behind the wheel. Briggs and Grim hopped in, and he floored the accelerator, hoping against hope that his ops wouldn't do something bad while confused.


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N:** **Hi everyone! We're reaching the end of this story, who has 39 chapters. So I publish two today, and tomorrow you'll have the three last ones. Hope you enjoy it, and please write a review! I still haven't got a single one, it makes me depressed... But please enjoy!**

Chapter 35

Sam was driving like a Nascar pilot in the deserted streets of Baltimore, speeding like a maniac and thanking all heavens that it was the middle of the night. He said to Grim, seated next to him and looking frightened:

_ Please call Dr Collins. Maybe we'll need him.

She took out her smartphone at once and dialed the doc's number. Sam listened with an ear to the conversation, staying focused on his driving.

_ Doc, it's Grim. … Yes, we found him. He's at his place, but he's not in his right mind. … He thinks he has a mission, he's downright confused. …You think so? ... Please. I think we'll need you. … In Shipley Hill, I'll send you his address right away. … Thanks, doc.

She hung up, sent the message and said seriously:

_ He's on his way. He thinks he's confused because of the special anesthesia the surgeon has insisted to give him. The drugs they used apparently have some weird after-effects on some patients, and among other things memory losses, confusion and sleepwalking disorder.

_ Great, Sam groaned. Just great.

_ I think he was sleeping, Briggs chimed in. He had a very strange voice. Maybe he was sleepwalking.

_ Even in a sleepwalk he can be very dangerous, Sam said grimly. He's a very talented ops, like you.

_ Thanks, Sam, but now's not the time for compliments.

Ten minutes later Sam slammed the breaks at the foot of Kestrel's building, and they hastily ran to the third floor. Sam tried the door, it opened at once. He walked in, not caring to be silent, and made his way through the dark living room. They spread in the small apartment, and soon Grim called them from the threshold of the bedroom.

Sam went next to her and saw Kestrel, snoring softly, eyes wide open and glassy, fully clothed, sleeping on his bed. He cautiously approached his ops and waved his hand in front of his eyes. Kestrel didn't stir but muttered in Russian:

_ Hello, there! Nice weather today.

Sam then checked his pulse, but it was quite normal, maybe a little bit slow. He carefully retreated to the door and said in an undertone:

_ He's fully asleep. But he usually doesn't snore, and his open eyes are quite disturbing.

_ I'll stay next to him, Briggs said, swallowing hard. You can have the living room.

_ Okay, Briggs, Sam nodded. Grim, please call Charlie. I hope the doc will arrive soon.

Grim went in the small kitchen, and Sam sat on the couch after switching on the small lamp. All around him he could see a neat and ordered room, with no personal belongings, a very Spartan living room. The only thing he could see that betrayed a living presence was a photo frame with a picture of Alpha on the empty bookshelf.

Grim came back and murmured:

_ I called Charlie. He's going back to bed.

_ Good. Thanks, my love.

As he was kissing Grim, a strangled yelp rose from the bedroom, and Briggs appeared, his back on them and slowly walking backwards as Kestrel advanced, eyes still glassy and empty but apparently seeing nevertheless. Sam calmly rose and asked:

_ What's the matter, Kestrel?

_ My chest hurts, the ops said with his strange, sleepy voice. I need a painkiller.

Sam looked carefully at his sling and saw that it was not correctly set, not doing its job properly. So he said very calmly:

_ Your sling isn't right. Would you like me to help you setting it right?

_ Yes, please, the ops muttered, like in a trance.

Sam walked cautiously towards him, minding his every movement as he knew that waking abruptly a sleepwalker could be very dangerous. He unstrapped the sling and Kestrel let him putting his arm back in place, then strapped the sling back.

_ Thanks, the ops said, and he turned, heading back to his bedroom.

Sam followed him and saw him lying back on his bed, eyes still open, and soon heard louder snores. He came back to the living room, utterly destabilized, and he said:

_ We really need the doc.

But five minutes later, the doc knocked once and went in. Sam led him to the bedroom, and Dr Collins carefully examined Kestrel, with very slow movements like Sam. Then he rose and they went to the living room and gathered around the low table on the sofa and armchairs. Dr Collins said calmly:

_ Exactly what I told you, Anna. It's the adverse side effect of the anesthesia. But it's the first time I see someone sleeping with his eyes open. And he can't be awoken for now, he could have a cardiac arrest. We'll just have to wait for the effects to wear off and watch over him in the meantime. Does he have a weapon here?

_ His P228, Sam realized with dread. He has one here, but I don't know where.

_ Let's find it, Brigg said grimly. But silently.

_ Doc, please look out for any reaction of his, Sam said, getting to his feet.

Dr Collins nodded and went on the threshold of the bedroom as Sam, Grim and Briggs spread out once again in the apartment. Sam chose to search in the bedroom, as it was a logical choice for a gun. He silently checked the nightstand and the wardrobe, but found nothing. Then he went in the kitchen as Briggs and Grim shared the living room. He inspected every cupboard but came empty-handed. Then Briggs said softly:

_ Got it!

Sam joined his ops in the living room, in front of the low table, where Briggs had found the pistol in a well-hidden drawer. He swiftly removed the magazine and pocketed the pistol, then they all sat back down around the low table. Sam could hear Kestrel's snores growing louder, and he asked the doc:

_ How much time before he goes back to his normal state?

_ Difficult to say, Dr Collins answered thoughtfully. The average time for normal men was about thirty-six hours, but he isn't an average man. It's been almost eighteen hours since the operation, so I suppose we still have a few hours of watching before us.

Sam nodded, then sat up. Kestrel's snores had abruptly stopped. He jumped to his feet as his ops exited his bedroom, ignoring them, and strode towards the front door. Briggs hastily put himself in front of it, and said very calmly:

_ It's too early, mate. Where are you going?

_ I'm hungry, the ops said in Russian with a monocord voice. I'll go to Irina Kirillovna's teashop.

_ It's five in the morning, Briggs explained, keeping his cool. The teashop is closed. You'll have to wait a little, mate.

Kestrel hesitated, his eyes still glassy, and at that moment Sam's smartphone rang loudly. Cursing inwardly, he saw Kestrel making a violent jump, his eyes wide with surprise and shock, then crumpling to the ground. The doc hastily ran to him and made him roll on his back, checking his pulse and breathing. Sam saw that it was Sarah calling him, so he picked up the line, retreating to the kitchen with a feeling of guilt and worry twisting his guts.

_ Yes?

_ Dad? It's Sarah.

_ Honey! Is everything all right?

_ It's quite all right, but we are worried. The surgeon told us that Kestrel has disappeared, and he needs to ask him questions for James.

_ Kestrel is with us, Sam said with a constricted voice, looking out the doorframe towards his sprawled ops and the team kneeling around him in alarm. But he's not fit for questions just yet.

_ What's happening, Dad? Why has he left hospital?

_ He's been sleepwalking, and now I awoke him with the ringing of my phone. I can't stay, honey, but I'll call you back as soon as possible. Okay?

_ Okay. Take care of him, Dad.

_ Will do.

Sam hung up and ran towards the small group. Dr Collins was massaging Kestrel's ribcage, but the Splinter Cell saw with relief that it wasn't CPR. Briggs was calling out softly his teammate:

_ Kestrel? Wake up! Come on, mate! Wake up!

_ Anna? the doc asked her. Please bring me a glass of water.

Sam was already up, so he ran to the kitchen and brought back the glass to the doc, who said:

_ Pour it on his face, Sam. I need him conscious, or he'll have a cardiac arrest.

Sam obeyed, and made the water trickling on his ops' face. Kestrel slowly awoke, his eyes fluttering open, his breathing jerky. The doc said with a soothing voice, still lightly massaging his ribcage:

_ Agent Kestrel, please relax. You're at home, and your team is around you. Everything's all right.

_ What... What happened? Kestrel asked, disoriented and wincing. Ouch!

_ Where does it hurt, agent Kestrel?

_ My chest.

_ I'll stop massaging your ribcage, but I really need you to relax, the doc said. You're too tensed, you've been startled very hard.

_ The hospital... Kestrel said in a halting voice. James... The transplant...

_ Agent Kestrel, just relax. We'll talk about all this later, but for now I really want you to relax. I don't want you to arrest. Tell me about your stay in the chalet in Boise. What did you do?

_ Chopped wood, Kestrel said with a grimace, clutching his chest with his right hand. Made a new low table. Ran. Watched the waterfall. Went fishing a couple of times. Cooked.

_ That's good. Do you want to go back there?

_ Yes. I love this place.

_ That's good. Now, I want you to picture yourself near the waterfall. You're lying on your back on the ground, the sun is shining and the water is running softly next to you.

Sam watched his ops with anxiety, but Dr Collins' hypnotic voice and the images of the chalet did the trick. He saw Kestrel' tense muscles starting to relax, his breathing becoming deeper and slower.

Within ten minutes his hand unclenched and left his chest, and he let out a huge sigh. Dr Collins smiled:

_ Good. Now can you get up, agent Kestrel?

_ Yes.

_ Okay. So we're going back to the cars and we'll drive you back to hospital. And...

_ No.

Sam fixed his gaze on his ops, who was looking sleepy but determined. And Kestrel added:

_ I want to go home.

_ But, mate, Briggs said, frowning. You are home! It's your apartment we're in!

_ No, Kestrel said weakly, shaking his head a little. Here is where I spend my time between missions. This is not my home.

Sam bent over him and locked eyes with him, asking softly:

_ Where is your home, sonny?

_ The Paladin. My cabin. My family.

Sam, moved, smiled, and around him the faces lightened with grins. He saw Briggs and the doc putting their arms under Kestrel's torso and the doc said:

_ On the count to three, then. One...Two...Three!

They made Kestrel sit up, and Sam held out his hand for his ops, who took it with his good arm. Soon he was on his feet, swaying a little but supported on either side by Briggs and the doc.

_ Do you feel dizzy? Dr Collins asked Kestrel. Nauseous?

_ Just tired, Kestrel said with a sigh, his eyelids half-closed.

_ It's quite normal, agent Kestrel. Okay, we're going to the Paladin's infirmary.

_ Sarah told me the surgeon had some questions for you, Kestrel, Sam realized with a start.

_ He'll have to phone me, the doc said firmly. If agent Kestrel feels better in the Paladin, then that's where we'll go. In such circumstances, it's far better.

True, Sam thought. And it would be easier for him to watch over his ops in the plane and prevent him from sleepwalking again. So they carefully brought Kestrel to the doc's car, and Sam and Grim went back to the van, following the Ford Mustang. Grim was driving, allowing Sam to call his daughter back.

_ Sarah, it's me.

_ Dad? Is Kestrel all right?

_ Yes, honey. He sleepwalked to his apartment, but now we're driving him back to our plane.

_ But the surgeon...

_ He'll have to phone Dr Collins, Sam cut her gently. We don't want to run after Kestrel again, he'll be better with us.

_ Yes, you're probably right.

_ How are the twins?

_ They're better, especially James. For the moment we see no sign of transplant rejection, so that's good. We keep our fingers crossed.

_ Me too, darling. I'll be in touch.

_ Okay, Dad. See you soon, then.

He hung up, his heart lighter. He told Grim the news and saw that she was relieved like him. Soon they reached their private parking next to the hangar, and Sam watched Kestrel, still supported by Briggs and the doc, climbing out of the car and going inside the Paladin. He followed them, Grim right next to him, and they held hands as they walked to the infirmary.

There the doc and Briggs took care to settle Kestrel comfortably, and the exhausted ops fell asleep almost instantly. The doc, although looking tired, sat on an armchair next to him and said:

_ I'll take first watch, until breakfast.

_ Thanks a lot, doc, Sam told him gratefully. We'll have some sleep, then.

_ Enjoy.

Sam, Grim and Briggs left on tiptoe and went straight to their own cabins, and Sam, without bothering to undress, collapsed on his bed. He was asleep in the following two seconds.

A wonderful smell of coffee woke him up, and he slowly emerged from his deep sleep. He rolled on his side and sat up, checking his OPSAT. It was 10.36 am. A little more than four hours of sleep, he thought dimly, not bad.

He went to take a hasty but reinvigorating shower, then headed towards the kitchen. And he found Grim preparing breakfast, looking better and more rested than the night before. He kissed her, and she smiled while kissing him back.

_ Hello, there! she said softly. Sleep well?

_ Not enough, he confessed, but well.

_ You started to snore ten seconds after you closed your door, she said maliciously. You truly were tired.

_ I'll admit, I was. So, what news?

_ None for the moment, she said while bringing everything in the dining cabin. For once I went straight here without starting to work.

_ Good, he nodded, helping her. You need to relax too. I was thinking about a trip to Europe for our next holidays.

_ That's a brilliant idea, she beamed. I'd like to visit France and England with you.

_ Then we'll do it soon, he smiled, his heart leaping in his chest. As soon as we can get decent holidays.

_ So it won't be until some time, I'm afraid.

_ It will. We'll take the time, my love. There are other agencies in the USA aside from us, after all.

_ Good morning! Charlie said loudly, entering the room. So, everything all right? Kestrel still there?

_ Hi, Charlie! Everything's all right so far, Sam said calmly. And I suppose Kestrel is still on the infirmary's bunk.

_ No, I'm not, a calm voice resonated behind him.

Sam turned and saw Kestrel, the doc and Briggs behind him, walking in the dining cabin with a smile on their faces.

_ Hi, there! Sam said. Feel better, then?

_ I feel fine, Kestrel answered him while sitting and grabbing a handful of bagels with a coffee. Starving, though.

_ And he stayed in his bed, Dr Collins said seriously. A good thing. So I rewarded him by allowing him to have breakfast here with the team.

Sam smirked, and Briggs winked at him. But Grim got up and exited the dining cabin without a word. Startled, the team exchanged puzzled looks, but she soon came back, an envelope in her hand.

_ Here, Kestrel, she said with a small smile. This came two days ago for you.

Konovalov's letter, Sam thought, feeling uneasiness creeping in his guts.


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N:** **Just a little specific thing. In this chapter I refer to the novel Splinter Cell Blacklist Aftermath, where Sam tracked down Kestrel in Ukraine near Chernobyl. It hadn't been a happy meeting for them, and it's the only time we see Kestrel in the whole novel, which had been extremely frustrating for me since I love Kestrel's character.**

Chapter 36

Kestrel was feeling quite fine until Grim gave him the letter. He had absolutely no memory of his sleepwalking and was still a little bit dazed, but he could mask it quite easily. And he was so hungry that he had pleaded a long time with Dr Collins to go to the dining cabin, and finally the exhausted doc had relented.

But now, seeing Konovalov's letter in Grim's outstretched hand, he felt nauseous and dizzy. He put down his mug of coffee and grabbed it, staring at the neat writing of Dyedushka who had labeled the envelope with his full Russian name: "Михаил Андреевич Лосков". Trembling, he stared at it for a long time, oblivious to the concerned faces of his teammates.

He didn't dare open it. He couldn't. Dyedushka had disowned him, he had thought Kestrel had betrayed Voron. Even during the night he had spent at Dyedushka's place, the seasoned ops had refused to hear him speak, just giving him some food, a gun and fake papers, then shut himself in his room. Kestrel had hardly slept that night, tormented as he was, just back from the USA. After they saved him, Sam and the team had let him go after asking him to tell Fourth Echelon about the intel Voron had extracted from him by torturing him. And the first thing he did after climbing down the plane in Moscow had been seeking advice from his "grandfather", but had received none.

And now, after three years of silence and reject, he had a letter from the man who had taught him how to be a Voron operative. A man who had been killed six months ago, but for whom Kestrel still had a very deep respect and affection. He set it on the table, still looking at it with his guts twisting, and heard Sam asking gently:

_ You don't want to open it?

_ I can't, he confessed, his voice trembling. He disowned me. He died believing I was a traitor. What could he have written to me?

_ Only one way to find out, mate, Briggs said seriously. Come on. Open it.

Kestrel took the envelope again, hesitating. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and Sam said kindly:

_ Open it, Kestrel. If he left something for you, then it must be important.

Kestrel took a deep breath, nodded and ripped it open, using his left hand still pressed against his chest by the sling. And inside, he found a small card. The image was an old one, and he recognized the bear Misha, mascot of the Olympic Games of Moscow in 1980. Then, his hand shaking, he flipped the card over, and read the Russian words written on the back. "To live without Hope is to Cease to live."

_ Dostoyevsky, he murmured. His favourite author.

He dropped the card on the table and stood up abruptly, tears blinding him. He strode out of the room, hardly knowing where he was going, and got out of the plane. He advanced along the airport fence, not feeling the light rain falling on him, melting the tears on his cheeks. He had to admit that Dyedushka had seen right through him, not fooled by Kestrel's tough shell. That quotation of Dostoyevsky was very clear.

It was true that after his awaking in the Paladin after his coma and Fourth Echelon's rescue, he had no hope left. Only revenge and fury were making him go on at that time, but those aren't things one can live on eternally. That's why he had started drinking, a short time after his encounter with Sam near Chernobyl, when the Splinter Cell had tracked him down and killed his target. And Dyedushka had obviously foreseen all this, just by sheltering him for a night.

But he had lived on since his last encounter with his "grandfather". He had met Alpha, he had loved her and still did, and now he had great friends, so close to his heart that he regarded them as his family. It had taken him time to trust them and accept to reveal himself to them, but he didn't regret it. He had found hope, and good reasons to live.

He breathed deeply, wiping his wet face, sensing Sam's and Briggs' presence behind him, and stopped, letting them catching up with him. While watching absent-mindedly the planes landing and taking off, he heard Sam's deep voice, asking kindly:

_ All right, sonny?

_ Yes, he nodded with a rather hoarse voice. The card has brought back bad and painful memories, that's all.

_ Tell us, Briggs said calmly.

Kestrel turned on the spot, facing them, and saw that they were drenched from head to foot. The rain was falling heavily now, but he hadn't noticed it until now.

_ Okay, but let's get back to the plane first or we'll all be ill and Dr Collins will go berserk.

Sam and Briggs had a faint smile, and they quickly strode back to the hangar. They made a detour by their cabins to put on dry clothes, and Kestrel had a tough time with his sling, but he succeeded and went to the dining cabin, where the whole team was waiting for him. He sat down, back in his right self, the card still in front of him, and picked it up. He asked, showing it to his team:

_ Do you know who this is?

_ Yeah, Sam said. Misha, the mascot of the Moscow Games in 1980. The US boycotted them.

_ Yes, Kestrel nodded, putting the card in his wallet. It was still the Sovietic Union, but my former country was very proud of this great event. And Dyedushka was there, as a KGB agent, securing the places and athletes. He was very proud of it and often told me the story. And of course, you know the usual nickname of Mikhail is Misha, so he started to call me Mishka for the reason I already told you but also because it reminded him of the Olympic Games and was close enough to the bear Misha's name.

He paused, remembering Dyedushka's smile when he had called him "Mishka" in front of all the Voron ops after their mission. He had felt so moved and proud then. But he went back to the present and went on, looking at his team:

_ Do you remember the day you released me? It was a Thursday. You drove me to Dulles and accompanied me to my plane, giving me my ticket and wishing me luck. I knew then you didn't really care about me, and to be honest I didn't give a damn about you either.

He saw Sam and Briggs looking uneasy, and Grim and Charlie were downright upset. But he wasn't harboring any grudge about it and calmly went on:

_ I had only one thing in my mind at that time: take revenge. And I did, at least I tried. But the night I came back from the US, I knocked on Dyedushka's door. I wanted advice, explanations, anything. He only gave me food, a shelter for the night, a gun and fake papers. Didn't speak one word to me. The following morning, he indicated me the door, telling me that I was a traitor, that since I had betrayed Voron he disowned me, and that never again should I come to his place. He wished me good luck, though.

He forced down the sad tears threatening to come out again, and said, feeling a very hard and old knot in his heart starting to untie:

_ You know what I did after that. I was a mercenary, freelancing in Russia, and I managed to catch several Voron ops who had tortured me in Koltsovo. When you tracked me down in Vilcha, I had come there for my target, but also for the cash I knew my foster father had hid there and that I badly needed. And when Briggs killed that Voron creep Yenin, I was mad. I almost shot you, Sam, you know?

He saw that his boss was a little surprised, but that was in the past. A painful past he was doing huge efforts to leave behind him, and talking about it was the right thing to do.

_ But I overcame the anger, and after all I owed you my life. So I simply decided to ignore you and your eventual calls, and leave no tracks behind me to prevent you from tracking me down again. But by doing so, I became desperately lonely, and I started to drink. You know the rest. I met Alpha, she saved me, from Pachkov and from myself. But this card from Dyedushka, with the quotation of Dostoyevsky, reminded me of that dark period of my life.

He raised his head and saw bright eyes and sad faces, and he said, smiling slightly:

_ But it's behind me. It's in my other life, when I was still Russian. Now I'm American and a Fourth Echelon ops, and immensely proud to be. And I'm not lonely anymore.

Next to him Briggs squeezed his arm, and Sam nodded at him. Grim wiped her cheeks, and Charlie blew his nose. Wonderful, Kestrel, мой друг _(my friend)_ , he thought, you've wrecked the mood. So he said more lightly:

_ And now that I'm here with you, I want to finish my American breakfast!

He grabbed his half-eaten bagel, seeing timid smiles on his team's faces, and hastily finished it. While he ate his three remaining bagels and drank his cold coffee, Sam said after clearing his throat:

_ Maybe we should take stock on our mission. Is it finished?

_ I think so, Grim said with a still uneasy voice, but quickly recovering. Let's have a meeting after breakfast.

_ You mean after Kestrel eats all the food on the table, Briggs joked with a small smile.

_ One day, I'll make you pay for your sneaky comments, мой друг.

_ How? Briggs asked, smiling wider. By forcing bagels down my throat?

_ Oh, it'll be much worse, Kestrel smirked. You just wait.

_ Don't forget to tip me off, Kestrel, Sam said with a snigger. I wouldn't want to miss it.

_ Neither would I! Charlie exclaimed.

_ Hey! Briggs protested, making the team laugh. Is it Isaac's day?

Kestrel grinned as they got to their feet and went to the control room. They gathered around the SMI, and Charlie switched it on. Kestrel saw a schematic with names and arrows, and Sam said:

_ Okay. So Leblanc died in the crash of his plane. The coup in Venezuela most probably won't happen since the boat bringing the weapons is now at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean, and since we prevented the Seal operation against the president Perez. The CIA is on the MSS' tracks and keep an eye on Venezuela, and the moles have been arrested. Kestrel, any news from Kossiak about Poliakov?

_ No. Maybe I should call him.

_ Go on.

Kestrel called his friend with Fourth Echelon's line, and soon heard his voice in the SMI's loudspeaker:

_ Да?

_ If you want to be happy, be, he said calmly.

_ Tolstoi, my favourite author, Kossiak replied. I have a book written by him in my bookcase, you're lucky.

_ Hi, Igor.

_ You sound better and not angry anymore, Mishka.

_ True. Water under the bridge, Igor.

_ Have you received the letter?

_ Yes, thanks.

Kestrel didn't elaborate, and he sensed Igor's curiosity, but he wasn't going to tell him about Dyedushka's last words for him. They had been for him alone. And if he had wanted to share the memories with his team, he didn't want to do so with Kossiak. They were still friends, but remote ones, and he knew that maybe someday their respective jobs would make them enemies. He asked:

_ Is Poliakov under arrest? And Kandinski?

_ Poliakov is dead, Kossiak said grimly. And Kandinski left us. He's on the run. He was innocent, we couldn't find anything against him, but his boyfriend's death was a hard blow. Before he left, he swore to take revenge upon us and Fourth Echelon. So beware, Mishka.

_ Okay, Kestrel sighed. One more enemy, then. That's just sad.

_ Indeed. What about the Guoangbu?

_ Not a threat anymore, Sam chimed in seriously. And the man pulling the strings is dead. It was Leblanc, one of the last members of Meggido.

_ I'm glad to hear it, Sam Fisher. Well, I'm afraid I can't stay. Until next time, then.

_Bye, Igor, Kestrel said simply.

He lightly touched the SMI, and the line went dead. Then he asked Sam:

_ So it's over, then?

_ Yes, Sam nodded. It's over. And I think we all have earned a week of holidays.

_ Not me, I'm afraid, Kestrel grimaced. Dr Collins wants to keep me within his sight for the next two weeks.

_ It doesn't mean you can't have holidays, Kestrel, Grim said kindly. Do you want to go to Boise?

Kestrel looked at her, hope and joy in his heart. He would love going back to the chalet, even if he had to be with the doc there.

_ Yes, I'd gladly go there, Grim!

_ I'd like to go there too, Sam said thoughtfully. The last time, it has been too short and eventful. Would you like to go, Grim? We've finished the mission, and we can't see the twins yet.

_ Yes, I'd like it, she said.

_ Charlie? Sam asked his tech.

_ Why not? the young man said. Boise isn't so far away from the chalet. As long as I have a computer and a car to go out, I'm in.

_ Briggs?

_ I'll have to ask Molly, but it's a good idea.

_ Kestrel? Do you mind if we all come? Grim asked him, a little late.

_ The more the merrier, he said calmly, rejoicing inwardly.

_ Okay, Sam said. So I'll ask the doc, then if it's okay we can fly there after lunch.

_ We go with the Paladin? Charlie asked him in surprise.

_ Yes, Sam said seriously. We must use it when three or more team members are gathered in the same place. Security reasons, to be ready in case of emergency. So if you want to go home to pack some things, it's this morning or never. Kestrel, you don't have your car and can't drive, but...

_ I'm okay, Sam, he smiled. I have everything I need here.

_ Briggs, Fourth Echelon will book and pay your tickets and Molly's if you want to come and miss the plane.

_ That's nice, Sam, the ops said gratefully. I'll keep in touch. Molly arrives later this morning.

_ Well, I'm off, Charlie said. Need a few things. Take-off at...?

_ 2 pm at the latest, Grim said, scowling at him a little. I did say " at the latest", Charlie.

_ Got it, Grim, Charlie sighed before leaving.

_ I'll phone Molly straight away, Briggs said, exiting the control room.

_ Do you need anything, Sam? Grim asked him.

_ No thanks, honey. I'm good.

_ Me too. I'll make lunch, then.

_ And I'll go and see the doc, Sam said. Coming, Kestrel?

_ I'm right behind you, Sam.

Kestrel got up and followed his boss to the infirmary, where Dr Collins was phoning somebody. They hesitated, but the doc beckoned them inside, so they entered. He said to the person he was speaking to:

_ Yes, I'm positive, Bert. I know him well, by now, I can assure you. … No, don't worry. … I'll keep in touch. … Yes, see you soon. … Bye.

The doc hung up and told them:

_ It was Dr Van Butten. He was distraught by your disappearance, agent Kestrel, and your sleepwalking disorder worried him. But I told him you had recovered well, at least until now. But I have to watch you very carefully for the next two weeks.

_ About that, doc,... Sam started.

_ Sam, he cut him, please! I need holidays! It's exhausting running and looking after agent Kestrel. He's very strong, but we're not all like him. So no more missions!

_ I wanted to offer you a week with us in Boise's chalet, Sam told him quietly. True holidays, doc. Well, except maybe a daily check on Kestrel, but no stunts and missions for a week at least. What do you think of it?

Dr Collins eyed him with a surprised, then appraising look, and Kestrel waited patiently, crossing his fingers behind his back. At long last, the doc said:

_ I agree on one condition.

_ Which condition?

_ Agent Kestrel, the doc said seriously, locking eyes with him, you'll have to promise me that you won't climb trees, fall into stairs, drink vodka, practise kickboxing or another violent sport like that, or anything of that sort. Peaceful holidays with no effort. Do I have your word?

_ Yes, doc, Kestrel smiled. I swear I'll be very calm and peaceful.

_ Good, the doc grinned. In this case, I gladly accept.

_ Thanks a lot, doc, Sam said, smiling. We leave at 2 pm.

_ Okay. Then I'll go home and be back on time. See you later.

Kestrel and Sam made their way back to the control room, and met Briggs there, just hanging up with his girlfriend.

_ Molly agrees, he said, obviously delighted. Her plane is landing at 11.17 am, so we'll just have time to go home and fetch some clothes before coming here on time.

_ Don't worry, Sam shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. You know Charlie, he's always late. I think we'll take off around three.

_ We'll make it quick nevertheless, Briggs said.

_ And Sam? Kestrel asked him seriously. Could I ask you a favour?

_ Sure, his boss nodded while facing him. Ask away.

_ Could you teach us in Boise your shadow technique, please? I suppose it doesn't require any violent physical effort, so the doc shouldn't be able to complain.

_ No, indeed, Sam said with a mischievous smile. Okay, Kestrel. You, me and Briggs will play hide-and-seek, the Splinter Cell version.


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N:** **Well, this is it. The last three chapters. I do hope you liked the story, and please tell me about your feelings by writing a review!**

Chapter 37

Kestrel was feeling dead on his feet, after nearly drowning, two general anesthetics and a very agitated night in two days, so he went to his cabin for a little nap before lunch. But when Sam shook his shoulder, he was surprised to hear his boss say:

_ Kestrel, we've landed in Boise. Wake up!

_ What? he asked, slowly sitting up. But...

_ We let you sleep, Sam explained. You were snoring quite loudly when Briggs came to fetch you for lunch, so he didn't wake you up. And I daresay you needed rest.

_ I won't disagree, Kestrel said, yawning and stretching widely, but feeling a dull pain in his chest, making him wince.

_ Your ribcage still hurts?

_ Yes. But it's much more bearable.

_ Tomorrow it'll only be a memory, I expect, Sam said with a smile. We've rented two cars. Grim, Molly and Charlie will go shopping, and you, me, Briggs and the doc will go straight to the chalet to settle in.

_ Okay, Kestrel said while getting up. I'll have my bag ready, then.

Sam gently clapped him on his good shoulder and left, leaving him hastily putting his things in a bag. Then he exited his cabin, shooting a last look at Alpha's photo on the wall, and went to the cargo hold. He took his Beretta with him, and this time Sam saw him doing so, but only nodded in approval. They never knew what could happen, and with Kandinski on the loose, maybe after them, he'd rather be cautious.

The women and Charlie had already left, so the remaining men piled up in the rented pickup and Sam drove them to the chalet. During the drive, Kestrel felt his body and mind relaxing more and more, and by the time Sam stopped in front of the chalet, he had a wide grin on his face. And when he put his bag on the bed in his usual bedroom with the view on the waterfall, he felt like he was home, like in the Paladin.

It was 4 pm in Boise's time, but he was hungry, so after a good shower he went down to the kitchen and found Sam and Grim already there, making sandwiches. The Splinter Cell noticed his surprised expression and explained:

_ For tonight it's sandwiches, but tomorrow and the following days, we'll take turns to cook meals, just like in the Paladin. And the team would gladly have a borscht, Kestrel, if you could cook us one.

_ Sure, he said with a smile. But you'll have to wait till I'm healed and the sling off.

_ Then we'll have it tomorrow, Sam winked. You're a fast healer, sonny, you're lucky.

_ What about the organization?

_ Easy. You do whatever you want, whenever you want. We have two cars, it should be enough. A little warning beforehand if you go out or don't eat here, but otherwise we're all free to move. True holidays. And we'll see about our hide-and-seek games. We'll have to do them at night, of course, but also in broad daylight, that's when you learn most.

_ I can't wait, Kestrel smiled.

_ Grab a sandwich, Kestrel, Grim told him gently. You haven't had lunch, you must be starving.

_ I'll admit I am.

He took a corned-beef and cheese sandwich, and hastily ate it. Then he told them he would be outside until dinner, and Sam and Grim beamed at him. He made his way to the clearing with the waterfall, and saw that he wasn't the only one to have had the idea. Briggs and Molly were there too, hugging tightly, and they turned when he approached.

_ Hi, Molly! Kestrel said, greeting her.

_ Good to see you, Kestrel, she said with a large smile. Feeling better?

_ I'm fine, thanks. What about you?

_ The baby makes my mornings a little messed up, she said, still smiling. But otherwise I'm fine. Isaac told me you saved his life. Thank you so much!

_ My honour, he said simply.

_It's such a beautiful place, she marveled, looking around them. I understand why Isaac wanted to come. He also told me you loved this place.

_ Indeed, he said, shooting a glance at the waterfall, listening to the calm whistling sound of the running water, bringing peace and joy in his whole being. That's where I made peace with myself.

He didn't elaborate, and saw Molly's puzzled look, but Briggs had a complicit smile on his face, and he said calmly:

_ I'll have a walk. See you both for dinner.

The cute couple nodded, and he set off along the dirt path, walking calmly. His chest was still throbbing dully, but he knew his ribs were slowly mending, and it was almost certain that the following day he would be healed and leave the sling behind. And he was so much at peace, thoroughly happy to be there, that he was humming quietly, inhaling the fresh air and the smell of fir trees, looking around him for signs of squirrels or deer.

After an hour he turned back and walked to the chalet, and when he arrived all the guests were in the lounge, having a drink. He sat down on his favourite armchair, and helped himself with an apple juice. Then Sam grabbed his beer and toasted:

_ To our holidays!

Kestrel toasted and sipped his glass, feeling good. These holidays were starting well enough.

* * *

Two days after their arrival, a reluctant Dr Collins gave permission to Kestrel to "play hide-and-seek" with Sam and Briggs in the woods, on the condition that none of them climbed in trees. They swore, smirking, and went outside. In the waterfall clearing, Sam explained to his two listening ops:

_ To become a shadow is a state of mind, I already told you that. You can wear any loud outfit, if you have the right state of mind and make yourself blending in your environment, you'll become almost invisible to any average passer-by. It's harder with people looking for you, but not impossible. You have to use the elements at your disposal, and you both know how to do it. But you have to train your mind to make yourself disappear.

_ How? Briggs asked, puzzled.

_ You usually know when someone is looking at you, Sam told him calmly. You have that creepy feeling at the back of your neck, haven't you?

_ Yes.

_ It's because the person looking at you is clearly visible, he or she emits "vibes" that you can feel. These vibes carry the person's emotions and thoughts, and in our line of work it's often hostile feelings towards us. Our sixth sense feels them and warns us of the danger. But the shadow technique, as Kestrel calls it, consists of shielding our emotions and feelings, not emitting any vibes. We disappear in the shadows, ceasing to exist as human beings, and thus we become undectectable by our targets.

Kestrel nodded, he understood perfectly. But it was easily said, much less done, he thought. And that implied being at peace with oneself. All the conditions are fulfilled, he told himself with an inward smile. Let's do it.

Next to him, Briggs looked skeptical, and Sam obviously saw it. He said calmly:

_ I'll prove it. Walk to the chalet, then come back here. I'll hide within a five-meter radius from the waterfall, and you'll both seek me. I give you ten minutes, plus five for your round trip to the chalet. Go!

Kestrel set off at once, Briggs at his side. They made their way back to the clearing, then split up to find Sam. And it was true that Kestrel, although used to his boss' intense gaze and strong aura, couldn't feel anything this time. Impressive, he thought, I have to master that technique. He and Briggs searched in the woods, looking for Sam, but the Splinter Cell was nowhere to be seen. And when the time was up, they both went near the waterfall, very impressed. Then Sam emerged from a nearby shadowy corner, in plain sight, and Kestrel felt awe.

_ You both passed twice before me, his boss said with a wide grin. I daresay my technique works. Now it's your turn. Hide in the same perimeter, and I'll have fifteen minutes to find you.

Sam headed towards the chalet, and Kestrel and Briggs split up again to hide. Kestrel chose a nook in a large fir tree's trunk, using some branches to camouflage him, but most of all he went into himself, shutting down all emotions and feelings, wanting to melt into the tree and be part of its trunk. Soon he felt emptiness in his mind, but a resting one, and he opened his eyes. He was able to look around him with a cold stare, no thoughts coming, and he focused.

Soon Sam found Briggs, and the disgruntled ops went to sit at the waterfall, and Kestrel watched with detached emotion, like a tree could notice squirrels running on its branches. But when Sam went past him, Kestrel forced himself to stay calm and empty-minded, letting out all his emotions. He kept his eyes open, fighting the urge to close them, and forced down his fear of being discovered. That was the hardest part, he thought. But he quickly evacuated that thought, and concentrated on his soft breathing, his heart beating, and Sam, incredulously, didn't see him, although he had looked in his direction.

The fifteen minutes ended, and Sam, checking his OPSAT and looking impressed too, called out:

_ Time's up, Kestrel! You can go out!

He shoved aside the branches, and Sam saw him. A large smile spread on his face as Kestrel made his way to the clearing, and Sam said:

_ Good job, sonny. That's one thing less I need to teach you. You'll help me teach Briggs.

_ Just great, Briggs grumbled. I feel hopeless.

_ Don't worry, мой друг _(my friend)_ , Kestrel said calmly. I think it's because you have too much on your mind right now. You'll soon master that technique too.

Briggs still looked sullen, but smiled a little, and Kestrel clapped him in the back. Then the three of them made their way back to the chalet, where they enjoyed a wonderful Italian lunch made by Molly, and Kestrel watched with amusement an argument between Grim and Charlie about the best way to hack into a bank server.

They finally stayed two weeks in the chalet, as no urgent mission had come through, and that was fine by Kestrel. He enjoyed going out to have some exercise with Sam and Briggs, meditating alone at the waterfall, helping his best friend with the shadow technique, which Briggs succeeded in mastering during the second week, and enjoying the team's presence.

Charlie was often out, partying in Boise's bars with the still celibate doc, whereas Briggs and Molly were strolling around, visiting Idaho. Sam and Grim mostly stayed around the chalet but had some good time together, Kestrel could tell just by seeing Grim's sparkling eyes and Sam's relaxed attitude. But one morning, Sam had a call, and Kestrel saw that their holidays were over. He told the team with an apologetic smile that they'd have to go back to Baltimore the following day. Kestrel was sad to leave the chalet, of course, but he knew that there would always be work for them.

And the night before their departure, Briggs asked all the people to go to the waterfall clearing, and there, just in front of the natural well, he put a knee on the ground and proposed Molly, holding out a ring. She cried happily, said "yes", and they kissed under the applause and cheers of the team. Kestrel was moved, but he felt a huge joy and pride when, after embracing his best friend, he heard his teammate asking him:

_ Would you accept to be my best man, mate?

He said, emotion constricting his voice:

_ It'll be an honour and a very great pleasure, мой друг.

They embraced each other again, under the softened stare of Sam, Grim and Charlie, then the tech insisted they had a small party to celebrate the wonderful news. Kestrel was happy to notice that he didn't feel any desire to drink vodka, in spite of the bottle on the low table in the lounge, and he watched with growing amusement all the team, except Molly who couldn't have alcohol because of her pregnancy, getting drunk.

He had a good time talking to his best friend's fiancée, and learned some juicy details about his teammate's habits. He asked her, smiling:

_ So, when will you get married?

_ In two months, I hope, she said with a beam. We need a little time to prepare all the things, but we'll make it simple, so it should be soon ready.

_ If you need help, you can count on me.

_ That's nice, Kestrel, thanks.

She was smiling, but he saw a sadness behind her smile, and he asked:

_ Is there something tormenting you?

She shook her head, watching Briggs staggering three meters away, trying to dance with Grim, Sam and the doc on some David Guetta hit played by Charlie, and finally confessed, absent-mindedly putting a protective hand upon her womb:

_ I would've been devastated if he had been killed. You saved his life by taking the bullet in your arm. How could we ever repay you back, Kestrel?

_ You don't need to, he said kindly. All I want in repayment is seeing you and him happy, having a wonderful marriage then having a marvellous baby. That'll be my greatest reward.

She smiled, shedding tears, and he wasn't surprised when she put a hand on his arm in an affectionate gesture. Then Briggs came to them, collapsing on the sofa next to his girlfriend, and asked with a thick voice:

_ Everything all right?

_ Yes, мой друг, Kestrel said calmly, smirking at the drooping eyelids of his best friend, who was clearly completely plastered. But maybe you should think about going to sleep.

_ What a good idea! Molly, darling, shall we go?

_ Yes, she said, discreetly wiping away her tears, but fortunately Briggs was so drunk he couldn't notice anything anymore. But I'll need help bringing you to the third floor.

_ That's why I don't drink anymore, Kestrel winked at her. Come on, Briggs! Upstairs we go!

He put his teammate's arm on his shoulder and helped him up the two flights of stairs, then made him lying on his bed. Molly thanked him and wished him goodnight, and he went back to the lounge, where Sam had apparently tripped over himself and was sprawled on the carpet, too drunk to get up. Grim, the doc and Charlie were just giggling, too plastered themselves to react, and Kestrel once again did the job.

He helped Sam on his feet and carried him upstairs to the second floor, slowly followed by Grim and the doc, and made his boss lie on his bed. He stayed on the landing long enough to see the doc and Grim safely in their bedrooms, then went to fetch Charlie. The tech, who had been their DJ, was snoring on his computer, the music still playing loudly. Kestrel stopped the playlist, switched off the laptop, and tried to wake the young man up, but after several large glasses of whisky with cola, Charlie was in drinker's Dreamland.

So, sighing deeply, Kestrel put the tech on his shoulders and brought him to his bedroom on the third floor, next to his own, and dropped him on the bed. Charlie, unaware of anything, went on snoring. Kestrel went down a last time to tidy up, switched the lights off, then went to his bedroom. He quickly fell asleep, smiling at the good memories he could add to his collection.

A few hours later, he woke up, packed his things and cleaned his bedroom, then went downstairs. It was early, 7 am, and he knew that after the binge the team had had the evening before, he had time. So he went outside to spend his remaining minutes at his favourite spot in the world. He sat on his usual rock next to the waterfall, remembering seeing Alpha there when he had almost died, and smiled.

What she had told him at that occasion was still troubling him. He was too deep in love with her to think about finding another woman and starting a family, but he had to admit that the idea was tempting. However it would take time, he thought. Making some space in his heart for a new love without forgetting the old one would be tough. Your next big challenge, мой друг, he told himself silently.

The sun was quite high already when he heard somebody approaching him, and he felt puzzled. The pace was strange, the footsteps light but hurried, and his sixth sense told him to run. So he listened to it, running towards the woods, but a loud bang resonated behind him, and he felt a bullet whizzing past his head, missing him by half an inch.

He dove in the cover of the trees, crouching low and shooting a glance behind him, and felt rage rising in his chest. He recognized the Voron suit and the red goggles, and the characteristic pace. Kandinski, he thought furiously. He set off again, knowing that with his goggles the rogue Voron ops could see him well enough. And Kestrel had left his Beretta in his bag, he was desperately outmatched. Unless...

As a second bang echoed behind him, he felt a round grazing his right arm, and he plunged deeper into the woods. He was heading towards the small river where he had been fishing not a month earlier, where he knew the swift current would trouble the infrared vision of his pursuer's goggles. And he soon heard the water running a few meters in front of him. He dove, oblivious to the freezing cold, and submerged completely, heading downstream.

Twenty meters away he turned, belly upwards, and made his mouth surface to take a deep breath. But Kandinski was good, he knew it, and as he plunged back again deeper into the river he saw him on the bank fifteen meters from him, holding a FAMAS, and shooting again. This time Kestrel got hit, he felt a sharp pain in his left upper arm. Not again, he raged as he swam deeper and faster. But when he looked behind, he saw Kandinski crumpling to the ground, dropping his gun. And ten meters behind him stood Briggs, holding Kestrel's gun.

Kestrel surfaced again, inhaling a sharp breath, and started to swim towards the bank, ignoring the pain in his arm. Briggs spotted him and ran towards him, Sam appearing a few meters behind him. Kestrel reached the bank just as Briggs caught up with him, and his teammate held out his hands for him to grab. He took one with his right arm but couldn't lift his left one anymore, and Briggs' eyes widened. He called out:

_ Sam! Need a hand! He's wounded!

_ As usual, Kestrel said disgruntedly, still in the water. I'm fed up with wounds!

Sam arrived a few seconds later, and he and Briggs succeeded in pulling Kestrel out of the water. He was shivering, and when he looked at his arm, he groaned in disgust. The bullet had passed right through his arm, fortunately, but the blood streaming out of the two holes wasn't a pretty sight, and he started to feel dizzy.

Briggs hastily tore his shirt and gathered a large piece, which he tightly strapped around Kestrel's arm, onto his wounds, while the ex-Russian ops said, his teeth chattering a little:

_ You've just saved my life, мой друг. Thank you.

_ Wait till we're back to the chalet to thank me, mate, Briggs said, concern on his face and in his voice. Maybe Dr Collins will kill you this time.

_ Is Kandinski dead?

_ Then it's him, Sam said, shaking his head. Yes, he's dead. He looked very intent on killing you.

_ Yes. Maybe he held me responsible for what happened to Poliakov. It's after I had them captured that his boyfriend's been killed, after all. But how did he find us?

_ We'll search him and track his movements, Sam told him gently. But for now, we should get going before you faint, sonny.

Kestrel could only approve, and as they set off, he shot a last appalled glance at his old fellow Voron comrade, dead along a small river in Idaho because of love and vengeance. That was just sad, he thought dimly, his arm aching and feeling chilled to the bone.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Sam was troubled, supporting Kestrel with Briggs back to the chalet. His ops was wounded, but it wasn't too serious, he knew it. However what was bothering him was how Kandinski had found them. The chalet was well hidden, an out-of-the-way place, but then he remembered that they had been attacked by Voron there a few months ago, in January. Voron obviously knew about it, and that was bad news. He'd have to speak to Kossiak about it.

Kestrel was shivering harder by the minute, and Sam thought that maybe his ops had hypothermia in spite of the mild temperatures. But the river was freezing cold with the melted snow from the mountains, and his ops had spent several minutes in it, completely submerged. He looked good enough, in spite of his wound and his chattering teeth, but Sam could see that he was shaken. Kandinski's attack and death were a huge blow for him.

Then Sam shot a glance at his other ops. Briggs had made an incredible shot, hitting Kandinski with a weapon he wasn't used to shoot with, and saved his teammate. Sam was so proud of him! He truly was lucky to have two exceptional ops under his command. And it was also fortunate that Kandinski had used a weapon without a silencer, enabling them to hear the shots and running to the rescue.

They reached the chalet, in front of which the rest of the team was waiting in anxiety, and Dr Collins ran to them. He had one look at Kestrel then shouted:

_ Grim, need three blankets!

Then he ordered them briskly:

_ Bring him to the lounge.

Sam felt Kestrel swaying on his feet and glanced at his arm. Briggs' makeshift bandage was soaked with blood, and a small stream was dripping on the ground in their wake. His chest tightening with worry he steered his ops inside the chalet, to the lounge, murmuring:

_ Hold on, Kestrel, we're almost there!

They were five meters away from the sofa when Kestrel's knees gave way beneath him, and Sam and Briggs had to grab him tighter to prevent him from falling face-first. The Splinter Cell saw that his ops was still conscious, but in a daze, and his arm was red with blood. They hastily made him lying on the large sofa, and the doc and Molly bent on his arm at once.

_ Press hard, Molly, Dr Collins was saying, as the nurse put thick clothes on Kestrel's wounds. Agent Kestrel, do you know where you are?

But Sam saw Kestrel's eyes rolling back in his head, and he cursed inwardly. He asked the doc with a voice ragged with dread:

_ Does he need blood? Do you have some?

_ I have some, yes, the doc answered him curtly, but I still don't know if I'll need it.

Grim and Charlie ran into the room, carrying thick blankets, and they hastily spread them on the shivering ops. Sam saw with growing anxiety that Kestrel's lips were blue, and of course he was still drenched from head to foot. Briggs lit a fire in the nearby wood stove, and soon the heat coming from it warmed everyone but most of all Kestrel who badly needed it. Then the doc, who was examining the ops' state and his wounds, announced:

_ I'll be able to suture his veins and wounds here, but he needs blood. Sam, there are two blood bags in the fridge. Please bring the one labeled O- here. Molly, my bag, please.

Sam ran to the kitchen and soon found the small red bag, and brought it back to the lounge. The doc was calmly suturing Kestrel's arm while Molly had placed a catheter in the crook of his other arm. He handed her the bag and with precise movements she connected it to the catheter. Then she asked Sam to hold the bag, staying up next to them, and the Splinter Cell watched the blood slowly going into his ops' vein, silently thanking the doc to have thought about bringing two bags there with him.

Dr Collins took his time with the veins and the wounds, and the blood bag Sam was holding was empty when he was done. The doc then bandaged Kestrel's arm, but he didn't use the sling this time. Molly took the blood bag and disconnected it from the catheter, then she withdrew it from the crook of the ops' heavily tattooed arm. As Sam watched Kestrel more closely, he saw that his lips weren't blue anymore, and he was less pale. But he was still passed out cold. Sam asked:

_ Doc? What will happen now? Do we stay here?

_ It would be better, Dr Collins answered, wiping his sweaty forehead and getting up. But you know agent Kestrel, he's quite stubborn and resilient. So if you want to go, we can as soon as he regains consciousness and is willing to go too.

_ Okay.

He heard movement behind him and saw Briggs entering the room, looking grim. The ops said:

_ Sam? I've brought back the body. Can you come outside for a minute?

Sam went at once, and saw Grim and Charlie looking at the ex-Voron ops, his hood and goggles at his side. Even in death, Kandinski had a mourner face, and his open and empty eyes were staring at nothing. Sam knelt beside him and gently closed his eyes, then searched the body. He found a pistol, a PSS like the Voron ops used, but nothing else. He looked at Grim, and she told him:

_ I've called the FBI. They'll pick up the body and look for his hideout.

_ If they find it, Briggs said darkly. That'll be hard.

_ Indeed, Sam said. But at least now we're safe. I'll phone Kossiak once we come back to the Paladin. I don't want this incident happening again.

_ What will you do? Charlie grimaced. We have nothing to prevent them from tracking us down here.

_ Yes, we have, Sam said with a harsh tone, anger filling his chest. We have Kestrel with us.

_ What do you mean? Briggs asked him.

_ Kestrel has been a Voron ops for ten years, Sam explained seriously. He knows a lot about them, and among many other things the exact location of all their hideouts, something that's probably not in their database. It's high time for our Voron friends to understand that we can play as dirty as them. I'll tell Kossiak that if he doesn't remove the chalet from his servers and look after his men more closely, I'll ask Kestrel to tell us everything and let the CIA know about it, something we've had the decency not to ask him yet.

_ You're sure Kossiak will do it?

_ Charlie has already hacked into their servers, he can do it again to check or remove the intel himself. Right, Charlie?

_ Absolutely, the tech nodded grimly.

Next to him, Grim was making a face, but he thought he knew why. She would disapprove an open conflict with Voron, since it could be useful to still have contacts with them, but Sam was done with them. Maybe Kossiak was Kestrel's friend, but he was also Voron's commander and would have to take responsibility for his ops' or ex-ops' actions.

Briggs and Grim stayed outside, waiting for the FBI, and Sam and Charlie went back inside to the lounge. Dr Collins and Molly were closely monitoring Kestrel, and the doc was checking the ops' temperature when Sam came next to them.

_ 96°F, the doc read on his digital thermometer. It's better, but he's still in hypothermia.

_ What can we do, doc? Sam asked him in concern.

_ Bring me some warm clothes of his and a large towel. We'll strip him of his wet clothes, they're making the problem worse.

Sam went to the hall, where he had seen Kestrel's bag, and dug in it. He found a thick sweatshirt, a polo shirt and some cargo pants, with socks and underwear. Charlie came back with the towel, and they both went back to the lounge. Sam noticed that Kestrel was stirring, shivering uncontrollably, and the doc said:

_ Agent Kestrel? Can you hear me?

_ Doc, Kestrel said weakly, his teeth chattering again. I'm fed up being wounded.

_ Me too, agent Kestrel, Dr Collins smiled faintly. I'm fed up seeing you every day. But this time, it wasn't your fault, so I'll cut you some slack.

_ Thanks.

_ We'll make you change clothes, agent Kestrel. You're soaked, and you have hypothermia.

_ I can get up, doc. I'll change.

_ Agent Kestrel, you shouldn't...

But Sam saw his ops sitting up, still shivering, and he helped him on his feet. Kestrel had his cold stare on, a harsh gleam in his eyes, and he knew that his ops was inwardly boiling with anger. He helped him out of his clothes and Charlie handed him the towel, then all the people turned as Kestrel dried himself and changed his clothes. Then he asked Sam for a hot mug of coffee, and his boss went to fetch it.

When he came back, Kestrel was sitting on the sofa, a blanket on his shoulders, looking at the large red stain on the cushion. Sam gave him the coffee, and Kestrel said, sipping it while shivering:

_ Thanks. I'm sorry about the mess, Sam. The cushion has had it, I'm afraid.

_ Don't worry about it, he replied calmly. Better a cushion than you, sonny.

Kestrel had a fugitive smile, then he said thoughtfully as the team sat around him:

_ Voron knowing about the chalet is a problem, Sam.

_ Yeah, I know. I'll phone Kossiak about it.

_ Useless, Kestrel shook his head, still shivering but looking better. Once they know, it's too late. The intel won't be in their database.

_ But what can we do, then? Charlie raged. Sam isn't going to sell this place just because of them! And we can't come here and look over our shoulder all the time!

_ Charlie is right, Sam said. I was thinking of having a leverage on them.

Kestrel locked eyes with him, staying silent, and Sam told him without words what he wanted him to do. At long last, Kestrel nodded and said:

_ I know a few things that could help us in this matter. Kossiak knows that if I speak to you about them, it could be devastating for Voron. I'm ready to tell you about them, Sam. It's high time for me to prove my loyalties towards you.

_ I never doubted your loyalties towards us, Kestrel, Sam stated seriously. But I won't ask you anything unless we need it. However I'll tell Kossiak that if he ever sends one or more of his ops around here again, you'll tell us everything. Deal?

_ Deal, Sam. And now, we should get going. The mission.

_ You're not fit, sonny. You need rest and getting rid of your hypothermia. We can...

_ Fisher.

Sam stopped abruptly. When Kestrel called him by his surname, it was a red alert. And sure enough, his ops said, anger in his voice:

_ We have a mission, haven't we?

_ Yes, Sam admitted.

_ Then let's go, Kestrel said, rising to his feet and folding the blanket. I can get warmer aboard the Paladin too.

Sam didn't comment and they all got up, following the ops in the hall. Kestrel gabbed his bag with his wet clothes on the top in a plastic bag, and went outside. There Sam saw Grim and Briggs, deep in conversation with two FBI agents, while a coroner and his team were putting Kandinski in a body bag. Everybody froze, looking at them, and Sam saw Kestrel dropping his bag on the ground, looking grim. He followed his ops as he was striding towards the stretcher, and they stopped just next to the body. Kestrel was gazing at his old colleague from Voron with a sad expression, and murmured in Russian:

_ All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love.

Sam recognized a famous quotation of Tolstoï, and knew why his ops spoke it. Kandinski was dead because he had loved Poliakov truly and deeply, and his only truth had been in revenge for the death of his boyfriend.

Sam put a hand on Kestrel's shoulder and nodded at the waiting people, and they resumed their job, zipping up the bag and putting it into their van. Then he steered him towards the rented pickups, and Kestrel followed obediently, lost in his thoughts. Briggs had picked up his bag, and the whole team climbed in the cars.

Grim was driving, Sam next to her, and behind them Kestrel and Dr Collins were sitting calmly, staying silent. The Splinter Cell could see that the doc was often shooting sideways glances at the ops, but Kestrel was clearly unaware of it, or more likely he just didn't care. He was boiling with anger, in spite of his very obvious exhaustion, and Sam had to admit that he himself wasn't too calm either. Kossiak would soon hear about his nasty temper.

When they reached the Paladin, Dr Collins wanted to escorted Kestrel to the infirmary, but the ops said with a firm voice:

_ I'm going to the control room, doc. I have to make a call with Sam.

The doc visibly wanted to argue, but Sam knew that Kestrel wasn't going to take no for an answer. So he said calmly:

_ Don't worry, doc. As soon as we're done, he's coming.

The doc reluctantly nodded, and the team went aboard. Briggs and Grim returned the rented cars, and Molly went to the infirmary with the doc even if she was supposed to be on holidays. Charlie switched on the SMI and prepared the call, then went to the cockpit. Sam looked at Kestrel, standing beside him with his cold stare, and the ops nodded. Then he made the call. After four ringings, the line was picked up.

_ Да?

_ Hi, Igor Dmitrovitch, Sam said calmly.

_ Hello, Sam Fisher, Kossiak's voice resonated in the room in heavily accented English. What can I do for you?

_ I want to make things clear between Fourth Echelon and Voron, he said, anger filling his voice. We killed Kandinski.

_ Really? Kossiak sounded stunned. Where?

_ In Idaho. At the place you're not supposed to know of.

Silence fell on the line, and Sam saw Kestrel clenching his fists, shivering and looking exhausted but anger sustaining him. After a handful of seconds Kossiak said:

_ I'm sorry about it. That info isn't in our database, but I cannot prevent my ops from talking. Avilov and his team knew about it, as men who're loyal to me do. Is your team safe?

_ No. Kestrel's between life and death.

Sam decided to lie to make Kossiak reacting, and keeping him on tenterhooks. He couldn't go to Moscow and wring his neck, so it was the only thing he could do for now.

_ Боже мой... _(My God)._ Will he be okay?

_ We don't know yet, Sam said grimly, looking at Kestrel who had a ruthless smile on his lips. He lost too much blood and was hit in the chest, his lungs are perforated. But if he dies, I'll make you pay, Igor Dmitrovitch! That was the last straw!

_ What could have I done? Kossiak asked angrily. Kandinski ran away, he left us! He turned rogue! You can't blame me!

_ I _can_ blame you! Sam roared, letting his anger out at last. You're in Moscow, he was in fucking Russia before coming here! Your friend Stepankova is at the head of your fucking SVR! Don't tell me you couldn't have prevented him from leaving Russia, I can't believe you!

_ Sam Fisher, Kossiak said, obviously forcing himself to stay calm, I swear to you we did all we could to find him, but he left Russia as soon as Poliakov died. He didn't take a plane here or we would've caught him. He probably went to Kazakhstan or Mongolia. And don't think I take things lightly. Kestrel's state is worrying me, I can assure you.

_ If you say so, Sam spat. But believe me, Igor Dmitrovitch, if you or any of your men set foot in Idaho or near our team again without our consent, then I'll take measures I had the decency not to take until now.

_ Such as?

_ If he makes it, I'll ask Kestrel to tell us about all Voron's whereabouts. The ones that we can't find in your database. The CIA has been pestering us pretty hard since he joined us, so from now on I won't hesitate anymore giving them what they want. Kestrel has never betrayed his former agency, but now I think he'll be quite fed up with your lot.

Silence fell again, thicker and uneasy. Sam crossed Kestrel's cold stare, he saw that his ops knew like him they were at a crossroads. War or peace with Voron would be decided with Kossiak's answer. And Voron's commander visibly could see it too, because he said grudgingly:

_ I'll make sure your hideout in Idaho and your team won't be attacked anymore, Sam Fisher.

_ Good, Sam said, feeling his lips stretching in a large nasty smile. I have your word, Igor Dmitrovitch.

_ And please keep me posted about Mishka's state, Kossiak said, his voice trembling slightly.

_ I will. Bye, Igor Dmitrovitch.

_ Goodbye, Sam Fisher.

Sam cut the line, and Kestrel said, shivering:

_ You did well, Sam. But I think you need to know some things about him and Voron, in case I die. I'll tell you soon about them.

_ Take your time, Kestrel, he told his ops gently. But now, to the infirmary we go.

He escorted his shivering ops to the small room, and Sam saw that Dr Collins had prepared thick blankets, and the heat in the infirmary was almost unbearable. But Kestrel went to lie on the bunk, gratefully accepting the blankets, and soon fell asleep.

Sam went back to the control room and saw that Grim, Charlie and Briggs were there, waiting for him with an expectant look. He told them:

_ Kossiak will make sure we're left alone.

Grim smiled faintly, reassured. Charlie didn't look convinced, but he shrugged and waited. Briggs frowned and nodded, and asked:

_ What about the mission? What do we have to do?

Sam smiled and told him:

_ Sarah called me. We're going to their place tonight, and you'll meet the twins at last. Sarah and Ben especially want Kestrel meeting James. But it's a surprise for Kestrel. So keep your mouth shut.

Briggs and Charlie grinned widely, and Grim went next to him, taking his hand, her eyes sparkling. And as they sat down for take-off, he thought that this mission would be one of the few he truly was going to like.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Kestrel awoke with the plane landing. He was feeling hot under his blankets, so he removed them and his sweatshirt and shot a look around him. Dr Collins was two meters away, sitting at his desk and reading a file on his computer, his back on him, and nobody else was around. He raised his head a little, still sleepy, and said with a hoarse voice:

_ Doc?

Dr Collins abruptly turned and rose, and went right next to him.

_ Agent Kestrel! How are you feeling?

_ I've been better, he admitted. I still want to sleep. But I'm not cold anymore, and my arm doesn't hurt.

_That's good, the doc nodded. And don't worry, it's normal you want to sleep. The loss of blood and your successive wounds and surgeries have drained you. You'll need some time to rest.

_ But the mission...

_ ...will be done without you, agent Kestrel, the doc cut him firmly. You're tough, that's a fact, but you have limits, and you're not far from reaching them. So for once you're gonna listen to me and do what you're told.

_ Okay, doc, he sighed, not having enough energy to argue.

_ Good. We've just landed in Baltimore, but you won't be able to drive.

_ Doesn't matter, he said calmly, my car is in Dulles.

_ Then it's all the better, the doc approved. One of your teammates will drive you to your place, and you'll have three days at home, ordering pizza or whatever, but not leaving your couch. Understood?

_ Copy, doc.

Dr Collins raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised that he wasn't balking at his instructions, but he was just too tired and drained. Three days on his couch were a nice perspective, after all. He would be able to have naps. And speaking of naps...

_ Agent Kestrel! Dr Collins called him out, waking him up. You're about to leave, you'll sleep later.

He dimly nodded, his eyelids drooping in spite of himself, and the doc had to snap his fingers under his nose to make him react.

_ Agent Kestrel!

_ I'm so tired, doc, he muttered, his eyes closing again.

And he fell back into a blissful sleep.

When he woke up again, he was in an unknown bedroom, lying on a queen-sized bed with wooden furniture around him and nice paintings hanging from white walls. Frowning, he sat up, feeling a little dizzy but better-rested, and checked his OPSAT. He read 6.10 pm, and the device had adjusted to Baltimore's time. So he knew he must be around Baltimore, but he didn't recognize the place.

He got up, shaking the lingering dizziness, and walked to the window. He was in a calm neighbourhood, with cars casually passing by in the street in front of him, but he didn't have a clue where he was, although he dimly knew he had been in this street before. Puzzled, he heard footsteps behind the door, and somebody lightly knocked on the door and entered. He turned round and saw Sam coming in. The Splinter Cell didn't look surprised at seeing him awake and up, and said with a smile:

_ Hi, Kestrel! Feel better?

_ Yes, thanks, he answered calmly, striding towards his boss. But where are we? How did I get here?

_ You were sleeping soundly when we brought you here, sonny, Sam winked. We just carried you. As for where we are, please follow me.

Sam exited the room and went down a narrow corridor. More and more puzzled, Kestrel followed him and they went down a flight of steps. Sam turned right and entered a vast living room, and when Kestrel went in he saw Grim, Briggs, Molly and Charlie, sitting on sofas and armchairs, and next to them he was surprised to see Sarah and Ben. They all smiled at him, and then he remembered. He was in Sarah and Ben's house, he had been there for their wedding a few months ago.

The young couple rose and walked to him, and Sarah embraced him, saying with a trembling voice:

_ Welcome, Kestrel! We wanted so much to thank you for what you've done to James! You saved his life! Thank you so much!

He was first so stunned he couldn't think of anything to say, but then he found his voice and said calmly:

_ My honour, Sarah. And my pleasure.

_ Thank you, Ben said, shaking his hand with emotion. From now on, you'll be the twins' uncle, if you agree.

_ Well...

He was a little disoriented by what was happening, but he nodded with a smile.

_ Okay. An uncle, it's... it's great!

_ Uncle Kestrel, Charlie's voice rose from the sofa. That doesn't sound too good.

_ Uncle Mishka will be far better, Sam chimed in as Sarah and Ben led Kestrel to one of the armchairs.

_ Yes, Grim said. It's better indeed. What do you think, Sarah?

_ That's just fine, she smiled.

_ And you, Kestrel? Will you be uncle Mishka?

He thought about it, under the amused glances of the people around him, and nodded at last.

_ So be it. Uncle Mishka I'll be. By the way, how are the twins?

_ They're well enough, Ben answered him with a grin. They accepted the transplants, all is well.

_ Uncle Mishka and uncle Isaac, Sam said with a smirk. Part time caring uncles, part time tough ops.

_ No way will I be uncle Isaac! Briggs protested vehemently. I can't stand my first name! It'll be uncle Briggs! I won't have it otherwise!

_ Come on, мой друг _(my friend)_ , Kestrel smiled. If I can be uncle Mishka, you can be uncle Isaac.

_ No way! Briggs shouted, his cheeks red. Uncle Briggs or nothing!

_ Okay, okay, Sarah said soothingly. Uncle Briggs, then.

Kestrel smirked as Briggs exhaled heavily, and saw Sam and Grim stifling a laugh. Then he asked:

_ So, have you drugged me to bring me here without me waking up?

_ No, sonny, Sam shook his head, still smirking. You were just snoring loudly, that's how we knew you wouldn't wake up easily. You know you usually don't snore, and the only times you did a jackhammer in your ear couldn't have woken you up.

Around him the team laughed a little, and he smiled. He had been really exhausted not to be awoken by the trip and the men carrying him here. But now he felt fine, still a little bit tired and dizzy but he would be able to wait for the night. He asked Sam:

_ What about the mission, then?

_ I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little bit more, his boss said calmly. You see...

On the bookshelf behind Sarah and Ben a babyphone suddenly transmitted soft babbles, and as the parents swiftly rose and went upstairs Sam told his ops with a wide grin:

_ In fact, it's starting right now. You'll have to meet the twins, Kestrel. That's your mission.

_ But...

Kestrel was bewildered. His still dizzy brain had trouble registering what was happening, and he asked again, lost:

_ That's the mission? The phone call you received...

_ It was from Sarah, Sam nodded with a wink, telling me the twins were out of hospital at last. So we organized this little meeting, it was to be a surprise for you.

Kestrel, feeling overwhelmed, only stared at his boss, and next to him Briggs lightly shook his shoulder.

_ Hey, mate! You there?

_ Yes, he said, coming back to reality. It's just... I have the feeling everything is moving on fast forward around me.

_ It's the exhaustion, Kestrel, Molly said, smiling kindly. Don't worry, you only need a long night's sleep, then you'll feel better.

_ I hope so, he said calmly.

Behind him he heard footsteps and turned, and saw Sarah and Ben, beaming at him and the team, holding the twin babies. He looked at them, and a strange feeling erupted in his chest. A warm, powerful emotion he identified as deep affection was spreading through his whole body, making him shaking and smiling, and wanting to cry at the same time. He watched with growing emotion the parents sitting on either side of him, and Ben did the introductions:

_ Kestrel, meet Mary Regan and James Samuel Woodridge. Babies, meet uncle Mishka.

The babies were awake, their bright blue eyes looking around them, and their little hands groping around lightly. Kestrel noticed that Mary had more hair than her brother, but they were both blond like their father and had Sarah's features. He smiled widely, and said softly:

_ Здравствуйте, дети _(Hello, children)_. I'm afraid you'll hear uncle Mishka speaking Russian sometimes, I'll teach it to you. I'm very pleased to meet you both.

Around him he could see wide grins and sparkling eyes, but he had eyes only for the twins. He presented his hands to the babies' tiny ones, and James succeeded in catching his finger. He chuckled, wiping the tears of joy from his cheeks, and said to his brand-new nephew:

_ I'm glad you're alive and safe, племянник _(nephew)_. In a few years, uncle Mishka will play soccer with you.

_ Soccer? Briggs asked with a disgusted tone. Why soccer? We're not in Europe, mate. Here we play baseball or football, not soccer.

_ Isaac! Molly said with a stern voice, and Briggs fell silent, looking grim, under the amused stare of the team.

Then James started to squirm, clearly hungry, and Sarah carefully placed him in Kestrel's arms, the tiny head in the crook of his right arm, and got up to prepare the bottles. The ops felt panic at first, then only joy. He looked at his team, and saw they were deeply moved, especially Sam. He thought it had to be weird seeing a tough-looking guy with gruesome tattoes on his right arm holding such a small and fragile thing as a baby with the same arm, but he himself felt great about it. Grim asked him:

_ Kestrel, do you want a photo?

_ Yes, please, he said gratefully.

Grim took out her smartphone and snapped a few pictures with Kestrel and James, and the two of them with Ben and Mary. Kestrel thanked her warmly, and she sent them on his smartphone. But the babies, unaware of all this, started to show their hunger and were crying loudly. Sarah quickly came back and gave the babies to Sam and Grim who bottle-fed them, eyes twinkling.

Then the babies went into small swings with arcs from which small toys were hanging, and the adults gathered around the large table to have dinner. Kestrel was starving, as usual, and enjoyed Sarah's roastbeef and potatoes with delight. He felt good and at peace, but his eyes were closing again, in spite of all his efforts to stay awake and enjoy the moment. Sam saw it and told him after the wonderful trifle:

_ Kestrel, you're exhausted. Should I drive you back to your place?

_ I'd like to say no, Sam, he confessed, but my eyes tell me otherwise. I need sleep.

_ Then let's go.

Kestrel rose and thanked Sarah and Ben who embraced him warmly once more, then said goodbye to the team and the babies, and followed Sam to his van. He quickly fell asleep on the passenger seat, and was shaken by his boss at the foot of his building.

_ Almost there, sonny. Give me your keys.

Kestrel handed him the key of his apartment and climbed out of the car. He swayed a little, and Sam hastily went at his side to support him. As they made their way to the apartment, up the three floors, he told Sam with a sleepy voice:

_ You have wonderful grandchildren, Sam. They're so cute.

_ Yes. I'm so proud of them. And you've done so much for us, Kestrel. Thank you.

He only nodded, his head swimming in tiredness, and soon they reached the third floor. Sam opened the door and helped him to his bedroom. There Kestrel collapsed on his bed, not having the strength to get undressed, and his eyes immediately closed. He heard Sam saying:

_ I'll lock the door behind me and slide the key under it. Sleep, sonny. You have three days off, starting tomorrow. I'll call you.

_ Thanks, Sam, he murmured.

And as he vaguely heard his boss exiting his apartment and the lock of the front door bolting, he dimly thought that the mission had finished quite well. Everybody was safe, they had done the job. Now, Kestrel, мой друг, you'll take care of yourself for a little while, he thought. You're physically exhausted and need rest. So take the time you need. And on this comforting thought he drifted into sleep.

* * *

 **The end! Hope you liked this story! Now please take the time to write a tiny review to share your thoughts about this story!**


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